


Heartache Every Moment

by wicked_writings



Category: Slipknot
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Hospital Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_writings/pseuds/wicked_writings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey's illness provides an unexpected opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burning in Water

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of FICTION. As far as I am aware, this never happened (except in my dirty little mind, and you don't want to go there). I have no association with any of the people featured in this made-up story and I make no money from its publication. And yes, I am very ashamed.
> 
> Because I have no imagination, the title of this fic and of each chapter are stolen from song lyrics/titles from HIM.

Joey stood huddled over the railing, seemingly trying to hurl all the contents of his stomach onto the grass below. It was normal for Joey to feel sick before a show, or to throw up, but today seemed different. This was the fourth time he'd thrown up this evening - 3 times too many. He hadn't had too much to drink the night before - just a couple of beers - and today's show was exactly the same as every other one they'd played on this tour.

Another convulsion and it felt like his stomach was trying to twist itself small enough to leap out of his body. He doubled over with the pain, hugging his arms to his body. He had nothing left to throw up and yet his stomach still felt the need to empty itself. His head ached and his eyes misted with unwanted tears, and he felt shaky as he rose to his feet. Clutching to the railing for support, he tried to steady himself. 

"Joe? You ok?"

An anxious looking Mick stepped outside to the catwalk where Joey was standing. Worried at how ill and upset Joey looked, he stood next to him and supported the smaller man with an arm around his shoulders. Joey nodded. He didn't want to talk, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd throw up again. 

"We go on in 10. Are you going to be alright?"

For the first time in a long time, Joey was reluctant to play. He didn't know if he had the energy, and he felt dizzy and ill. But he could hear the screaming of thousands of fans beyond the stage, and he knew he couldn't let them down. He nodded again, staring up at Mick through his black hair. He hugged his arms closer to himself, and as he and Mick set off to join the rest of the boys, he leant on Mick for support. 

Tightening his arm around the drummer, Mick was concerned. He didn't think Joey would make it through the set, but they needed him to play. Shawn could always play of course, but he didn't know the songs as well as Joey. Joey was the glue that held the band together on stage, and without him, he was afraid the gig would be disastrous.

*

As they approached the other guys, grouped together at the side of stage, Joey felt as though he wanted to throw up again. Swallowing hard and hoping the sensation would disappear, he tried to concentrate on remembering the setlist.

It was no good. 

Breaking free from Mick, Joey turned and gagged again, feeling his stomach convulse and jerk. Hands on knees, he struggled to breathe. Mick came up behind him and gathered his black hair up, and stroked his back. He appreciated Mick's concern, but at the same time he was embarrassed this was happening in front of the guys.

Mick shot a worried glance at the others and said, "I don't think he's ok."

His stomach having stopped heaving, Joey straightened up and mumbled through clenched teeth, "I'll be fine.”

"I dunno Joe, you don't look too good. We can delay the start if you need some time," Shawn said, moving towards them. 

"Is there anything the medics can do?" Sid asked. 

"Won't hurt to ask," Corey answered. In his usual, slightly arrogant way, he motioned for an aide and demanded a medic. 

Mick helped Joey sit down, who promptly leant against the guitarist as he sat next to him. He knew he was being weak, but at that point he didn't care. He felt like absolute shit, and as the start time for the gig came and went, started to feel even worse. The screaming was getting louder, and he could hear Slipknot chants. He hated to let down his fans. 

Blinking back tears, he took solace in the figure supporting him. Turning his face into Mick's shoulder, he felt the guitarist slide an arm around him. Chris knelt on his other side, and took Joey's hand. Squeezing tightly, Joey fought more tears as he realised how incredibly supportive his bandmates were being. Glad no-one could see his face, he swallowed sobs. The pain in his stomach got worse. 

Pounding feet alerted him to the fact the medics had arrived. Corey was stalking around impatiently, angry at the delay in getting them there. 

"Is there anything you can do to help him?" The concern in Mick's voice touched Joey. Cold hands felt his forehead, and he heard someone say he had a fever. 

"How many times have you thrown up?" Joey heard one of the medics ask. Still afraid of opening his mouth, he held up his hand. 5 fingers. 

"I can give him a shot that should stop him throwing up. But he's very weak. He needs fluids," the medic said. The next thing Joey felt was a jab in his upper arm. He hoped it would do what the medic said it should. He didn't think stopping his drumming to throw up every few minutes would go down well. Someone forced a cup of water to his mouth, and he drank, despite feeling nothing should be entering his stomach, which had taken on a mind of its own. For a few minutes he sat huddled up to Mick, and slowly realised the shot was working. He no longer felt the desire to gag often, although the feeling of nausea remained.

Feeling stronger, he wrapped an arm around Mick's shoulders, silently asking him to help him stand up. The guitarist obliged, and helped lift a shaky Joey to his feet. They remained standing like that for a few moments as Joey's dizziness disappeared. Someone handed him his mask, and Mick helped him put it on. Chris slid his Ahead gloves on his hands, and a pair of drumsticks was thrust at him. Mick looked annoyed at this, couldn't they see Joey still needed a few minutes?

As if in response to the angry look on Mick's face, the band's crew took off, leaving the two together. Corey and Shawn approached, having spent the last few moments speaking to each other. 

"We're gonna cut 'Three Nil' and 'Metabolic'. The others know. You still want to do your solo, Joey?"

Joey shook his head furiously. His upside down solo was exhausting, and he knew there was no way he could handle it today. He felt bad for their fans, but there could be a bad accident if Joey tried to play upside down in the condition he was in. He knew it wasn't safe. 

The other members of Slipknot made their final preparations, and headed for their positions on stage. Mick and Chris helped Joey to his drum stool, and Mick made a member of their crew sit behind Joey in case anything happened.

Joey was feeling better by now, but he was still glad two songs had been cut. He had the hardest, most tiring position in the band, but it was also the most important. He forced himself to focus, and grip his drumsticks.

*

He had no idea how he managed to make it through the show. There were several moments where he wanted to toss away his drumsticks and walk off (or crawl, whichever) but something dug deep within him and he stayed. Each song took a little more out of him, and it was only looking out at the sea of fans in front of him that he knew he had to do it. While he didn't feel the need to throw up, his stomach was churning and agitated, and the pain was nearly unbearable. He couldn't sit up straight and that affected his playing, as he struggled with some parts. 

The others did their best to help him, which Joey was incredibly grateful for.   
Corey talked for several moments after each song, giving Joey time to recover. Sid added several minutes to his solo, and Mick and Jim also did a guitar duel. The benefits from this were two-fold - it gave Joey a chance to choke down some water and be checked by the medic, and it made up for his own missing solo. Despite regret that the fans would miss out, Joey was glad he didn't have to do it; he could barely play normally, and he thought playing upside down would kill him. He felt as though he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up - he never wanted to go through this again. He could see Mick look back at him frequently, making sure Joey was still upright and moving. There was one moment Joey wanted to throw down his sticks and run over to him, and just about beg to have the whole thing stopped. But he resisted, and carried on playing, pushing through the pain.

The end of 'Surfacing' came as utter and blessed relief. Slamming down his drumsticks for the last time, Joey collapsed, sliding sideways off his stool. The commotion behind the kit alerted the other members, and Mick felt his heart slam against his chest. Throwing his guitar at a roadie he ran over with the others. Joey lay on the harsh base of his revolving kit, and Mick pushed several people aside to get to him. Kneeling down, he grabbed Joey by the waist and pulled him to his chest. Joey was still there; the black curtain of unconsciousness flirted with his senses but he held on. When he realised Mick was finally there, and the comforting sensation of arms around him held him tight, he succumbed.


	2. Drowning in Flames

He woke up 20mins later, flat out on a stretcher backstage. Needles were pinning his arms and he dully took in his IV. A hand stroked his chest and a voice welcomed him back to the living. Blinking, Joey feel his senses return. Mick's face was swimming above him, and he lifted an arm to try and touch him. His hand-eye coordination having not yet returned, Mick grabbed his arm before he had an eye poked out. Clasping Joey's tiny hand within his own, Mick knelt down next to the gurney. 

"You gave us all a bit of a scare."

Joey gave a weak smile. "Isn't that what I'm good at?" Mick laughed. He was glad to see Joey felt better. "Where is everyone?" Joey asked. 

"In the shower. I think Corey was worried about the fumes knocking you out again if they were all standing around here unwashed."

Joey laughed. He took in Mick's own unwashed condition and asked, "What about you? You haven't had a shower."

"I wanted to be here when you woke up. I used a bit of deodorant though, thought that might help."

In response, Joey squeezed Mick's hand. Mick had been awesome to him today, and he didn't know what he had done to deserve it. But just as he was trying to find a way of putting his appreciation into words, the others came back. They jostled for position around his stretcher, all evidently pleased to see him looking so much better.

"You know, we shoulda stuck an IV in you for the show," Sid said. 

"Yeah? And killed himself trying to play with it in?" Shawn countered. With that, the two started arguing playfully, until Chris pointed out that Joey didn't really need too much excitement right then. Subdued, both of them settled down. Throughout all this Mick remained by his side, still clenching Joey’s hand. Joey could see Chris's mind ticking over at this, but he didn't care. He didn't want Mick to leave.

Just then their manager bustled up. His face betrayed the stress he had been under tonight, and he looked haggard and tired. "Joey's coming with us."

"Well, where else am I going to go?" Joey replied indignantly. 

"The medics want to take you to hospital. But then we'd never get you to Denver in time," he was answered.

"Well, I'm glad you have his best interests at heart!" Mick stood up abruptly, towering over their manager who suddenly looked quite intimidated. "What if he gets sick again? What if we can't help him? What then?"

"Mick." Joey's quiet voice seemed to calm him down. "It's ok." Glancing down at Joey laying in the stretcher, Mick fell quiet. "I'll be fine," Joey reassured.

"You said that before the show and look what happened to you! What if it happens again?" Mick looked concerned. 

Joey grabbed for his hand again, pulling him back down to his level. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted, although his pale face seemed to contradict him. 

"You should get a shower Mick. We'll be leaving soon," their manager offered. "I'm sorry about Joey, we'll get him checked over again when we get to Denver.”

Mick looked at Joey, who nodded. Reluctantly parting, he stood up and headed for the showers. 

"You lot - get ready," their manager threw at the rest of the guys as he hurried off again.  
The sudden turn of events seemed to wake them up. All of them bar Chris seemed to be relieved to have something to do. He remained as the others headed off to pack up. He took Mick's vacant position next to Joey.

He cut right to the chase. "Mick's been so worried about you. I mean, we all have been, but he's been frantic. I thought he was going to punch something when you left us for a bit." Joey bit his lip and looked away. Chris knew something was up. "I think he likes you."

With that, Joey abruptly turned his head to Chris'. He was thinking of something to say to this momentous revelation when the medics turned up.  
Removing his IV, they checked all his vital signs and declared him fit enough to travel (but it seemed to Joey some of it was forced, and he suspected his manager had something to do with that). Sitting up, he let his head adjust. Chris stayed with him after the medics left, having given Joey some medication to tide him over. 

Joey pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. The world was still rotating, and he knew he wasn't 100%. Chris sat patiently next to him, knowing he would talk when he was ready. 

"Is that really what you think?" Joey knew the answer even as he asked the question. 

Chris nodded. "He really cares for you. I haven't seen him act around anyone like he does with you."

Joey lay his head on his arms. Feeling a bit better now, he realised that the way Mick had been looking out for him was different. The others had been concerned, of course, but Mick had really suffered along with Joey. And it wasn't just this time, there was other times as well. Mick being a lot more patient with him than the others were, at times when Joey was being insufferable and annoying. Always helping him, especially at times when Joey's size and height were a disadvantage. Making sure he was taking care of himself; carrying Joey back to the bus when he was dead drunk. 

Joey supposed he should have seen it coming. And now, Joey thought that he felt the same way. As much as he was grateful that Chris was keeping him company, he'd give anything to have Mick back at his side. Blinking back tears, he felt overwhelmed. Chris's hand rubbed his back, and Joey knew he understood. They sat there for a while, not talking, Chris knowing Joey needed time to think. And when Mick came back, Chris left silently.

This time, Joey reached up for Mick, sliding his arms around the guitarist’s neck. Mick sat down with his arms around him, feeling Joey's head tucked into his chest. He rested his head next to Joey's, breathing in his scent. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound stupid or cheesy.

Joey was still tucked up in Mick when Chris approached, and stood a respectful distance away. Mick looked up, annoyed at the interruption, but he knew Chris couldn't help it.

"Bus is leaving soon." And with that, he turned and left them alone. 

Mick lay a gentle kiss on Joey's hair. He helped the younger man to his feet, supporting him with a steady arm. He was worried Joey would head for the deck, and at one point he nearly did, but Mick caught him. Joey was still shaky; Mick could feel his skin trembling. He wrapped his arm around Joey and lifted him carefully to save him walking.

He walked slowly to the bus, Joey nearly asleep on his chest. Corey opened the bus door for him and Mick immediately went upstairs to the top level. The others stayed below, in the living room by the bunks.

He lay Joey down on the sofa, before heading to the kitchen to grab some water. He knew it was important to keep pouring the water down Joey; being dehydrated from the vomiting wouldn't help him. Back at the sofa, he lifted Joey up so he could sit down. Leaning back, he adjusted himself and Joey so the smaller man was laying between his legs, head on his chest. He made Joey drink some water, mock-glaring at him when the drummer claimed he was sick of water.

Joey fell asleep almost instantly after laying back down again. Sliding his arms around Joey, Mick held him up. He felt the bus' engines start up, and slowly the vehicle started to move. It was only a few minutes before he began to fight to keep his eyes open, and then slowly succumbed to sleep.

*

It was 3.30am when Mick awoke. He wasn't sure why he had woken up, then he realised the bus was slowing down. The bright lights of a service area shone into the windows, and Mick figured they needed gas. Joey lay still and quiet in his arms, but he too felt the change in momentum and opened his eyes. A part of him wanted to go back to sleep, to be deliciously warm and comfortable in Mick's arms, but another part of him was hungry. He sighed deeply, feeling much better for having gotten some sleep. At least he felt hungry, he supposed that was good, but he also hoped it wouldn't mean he would start throwing up again with food in his stomach. 

"You feeling ok?" Mick asked.

"Yeah. I'm hungry!"  
Mick laughed. "You want me to grab you something to eat?" Joey nodded. "What do you want?"

"Something hot and greasy."

Yup, Joey seemed to be back. Mick smiled and brushed the hair out of Joey's eyes, fingers lingering on the soft skin on his cheeks. The bus pulled to a stop, and Mick figured he'd better hurry up. Joey moved off his lap and lay against the back of the sofa to let him leave.

He moved downstairs, bumping into Sid in the darkness, who also seemed to be on the way out for a late night snack.

"How he is?" Sid asked.

"Nearly back to normal. Wants food."

Sid laughed just laughed and shook his head. Mick let the bus-driver know the both of them were out, and they headed inside for provisions. Coming out 10 minutes later loaded with food, Mick hoped Joey was ok. Sid seemed to read his thoughts.

"He'll be fine, you know. He's a big boy, really," Sid flourished the last part with a grin. 

Mick grinned. "I can't help but worry."

"I know. And I know he appreciates it."

With that, the bus was before them, and Sid said goodnight to Mick as they headed in their different directions.

A light was on upstairs, and Mick was grateful for it as he climbed the stairs. Not so grateful, though, when the bus started up and jerked off, nearly causing him to topple back down again. Cursing, he righted himself and walked into the living room. Joey lay on the sofa where he had left him, nursing a bottle of water. He still looked quite pale, but Mick had to remind himself that Joey always looked pale. If he wasn't pale, then there was _definitely_ something wrong with him. He smiled as Mick approached, arms full of food. 

"You buying for an army?"

Mick shot Joey a grin. "Well... we got burgers, fries, coke, lemonade and errr, chocolate," he said, laying it all on the table and sitting down next to Joey.

"Chocolate?"

"Yeah. Sugar," Mick said.

"Where's the beer?"

"You are NOT having beer, Joey."

"Hmmmppphhhh."

Grabbing some fries, Joey started to eat. Now that he had food back in his hands, and his stomach seemed to have settled down, he felt things were getting back to normal. At least his stomach bug, or whatever it was, didn't seem to want to hang around. One of those one day things. He still felt weak and tired, but he figured food was the best thing he could do for himself. As long as it didn't encourage his stomach to spazz out again....

"They ok?" Mick asked.

"What?"

"The fries. You seem to be staring at them, instead of eating them."

Joey giggled. He stuffed the rest of his handful into his mouth and grabbed some more. The food was soon demolished, and empty food wrappers lay strewn across the table. Deciding to clean up later, Mick lay an arm on Joey's shoulder. 

"You wanna stay here, or go down to your bunk?"

"I wanna stay here. With you," Joey smiled. 

Mick smiled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I think. I just hope the food stays down!" Joey laughed. It was as he did that his stomach gave an ominous grumble. 

Seeing the look pass over Joey's face, Mick was concerned. "You ok? You going to be sick?" 

He didn't get a verbal answer as Joey flew to the bathroom.

Mick rushed after him, and as the drummer bent down, gathered up his hair so it didn't fall in his face. He held Joey as he emptied his stomach, cursing. Here he was thinking he was back to normal, and the vomiting strikes again. Joey clung to the toilet, body heaving, feeling those unwanted tears creep back. His stomach jerked and heaved, and he felt his skin start to sweat.

When the gagging eased, Joey sat up into Mick's arms, gasping. Mick wrapped him in his arms and comforted him, trying to stop his small body shaking. He grabbed the toilet tissue and gently wiped the tears from Joey's face, hushing his cries.

After making Joey wash his mouth out with water, Mick carried him gently back to the sofa. He lay down with Joey, who curled up with his head on Mick's chest. Mick pulled a blanket down from the top of the sofa and tucked it around them, making sure Joey was covered. He stroked Joey's hair with one hand and his back with the other, soothing him. He could feel Joey begin  
to slip into sleep again, and slowly relented himself.


	3. Fortress of Tears

He was woken by a shake on the shoulder from Chris. Joey was still huddled in his arms, buried into his chest. "How is he?"

"He was sick again last night."

Chris sighed. "Poor guy."

"Are we there?" Mick asked.

"Yeah. Hotel's waiting," Chris said with a smile.

"'Bout fucking time."

Chris left to go and pack, and Mick set about waking up Joey. He wished he could let him sleep, but he knew he'd feel better once he was in a bed. And Mick would feel better once he sorted out a doctor to check on him. 

"Joey?" he said softly, stroking his cheek. Joey stirred, and blinked his eyes tightly shut before opening them. He moved slightly with a groan, and curled up tighter on Mick's chest. "You feel sick?"

Joey nodded. "Kinda."

"We're here. I'll take you inside, tell me if it gets really bad, ok?"

Joey nodded again, and wrapped his arms around Mick's neck. Pulling the blanket off, Mick sat up with Joey, and picking him up carefully, headed out of the bus. Corey had a room key waiting, and together they ventured into the lobby and straight up to the room. Corey unlocked the door while Mick waited with Joey, who seemed to have fallen asleep again. Mick asked Corey to grab their bags from the bus, and after he'd headed downstairs he gently lay Joey on the bed. He grabbed a facecloth from the bathroom, and after wetting it with cold water, went back into the bedroom to carefully wipe Joey's face. A knock on the door alerted him to the fact that their bags were there, and he let Paul and Jim in (apparently, Corey was delegating again). He asked Paul to get their manager to arrange a doctor and sent them on their way. 

When he was finally left alone with Joey, Mick sat next to him on the bed and stroked the hair from his face. Realising both of them were still in the clothes they were wearing yesterday, he changed his own clothes and rummaged in Joey's suitcase until he found clothes he assumed were somewhat clean.  
As he was still fast asleep, Mick unbuckled Joey's jeans and gently eased them over his hips. He tugged them down Joey's legs, leaving him lying there in his boxers. Chucking the jeans into a corner, Mick picked up the tracksuit pants he'd found in Joey's suitcase. He carefully slid them on, and with one hand under the crook of Joey's back, he lifted his hips up to pull the pants on completely. With that done, he turned his attention to Joey's shirt, and a few moments later had pulled it off. 

He was shocked at how skinny Joey appeared to be. Of course he was tiny, but it seemed to Mick that Joey had lost even more weight in the last day or so. His ribs were visible and his skin looked even paler than usual. Mick lay a hand on the smooth skin of his chest, feeling it rise and fall. Stroking his hand up to rub Joey's shoulder, he leant forward and laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. Making sure Joey seemed ok, he managed to get the shirt over his arms, and lifting him carefully, down his back. No sooner than Mick had chucked the old shirt in the direction of the jeans, was there a knock on the door.

Their manager entered with a man following behind him, who Mick assumed was the doctor. Mick sat on the bed next to Joey, and although reluctant to wake him knew the doctor needed to talk to him. He shook Joey's shoulder, and after the smaller man responded groggily, slid his arm under his back to ease him up onto the pillows. Sleepily, Joey took in his surroundings and the people around his bed.

Mick explained he'd been sick again early that morning, and he hadn't had anything to eat since then. The doctor (who Mick thought seemed far too young, _he'd better know what he's doing!_ ) checked him over, took his temperature (“pretty high”), gave him another jab to stop the vomiting and told Mick to keep up with the fluids. Throughout this Joey sat curled up to Mick, arms crossed, looking like all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. The doctor explained it looked like a regular stomach bug, and if the others hadn't gotten sick as well by now, they probably wouldn't. Sleep and fluids seemed to the doctor's mantra, and Mick took note. Leaving more medication, the doctor and their manager departed, and Joey was asleep before the door closed to its stop.

Making sure Joey was comfortable, tucked up to him, Mick found the TV remote and started flicking through the channels. As usual, there was nothing on, and he found the monotonous channel surfing soporific. Feeling his eyes droop, he switched the TV off and lay down beside Joey. He wrapped his arms around him, who shifted in his sleep until he was faced into Mick. Nuzzling his face into Joey's hair, Mick breathed in, and brushed the soft skin with his lips.

*  
It was Joey who awoke first. 

Lying there, feeling warm and comfortable with Mick, he didn't want to move. It was a few moments before he realised he didn't feel as badly sick as he had been. He hoped that this time, his stomach wasn't tricking him. Rubbing his hand on Mick's hip, he watched him as he slept. The thought passed through his head that a week ago he would have run kicking and screaming from the room if he'd found himself in this position with any of his bandmates. Joey grinned, and figured _times change_. He leant forward and pressed a kiss to Mick's cheek, and watched as the bigger man stirred and opened his eyes. 

"Hey."

Mick smiled. "You aren't too bad to wake up to, you know."

Joey responded by giving Mick another kiss on his cheek.

"You feel better?"

"Yeah. Hungry."

"No Joey.... no food! You know what happened last time! You're never eating again!"

Joey laughed and tried to push Mick over, but failed miserably - it was like trying to push a brick wall. Mick had no problem rolling Joey over though, albeit a lot more gently than he normally would. He braced himself above Joey, careful not to lean any of his weight on him. "I think I win."

Poking his tongue out, Joey wrapped his arms around Mick's neck. Sighing, he lay there looking at Mick. "I really am hungry."

"But what if you throw up again?"

"I can't just not eat, you know."

Mick conceded that he had a point. "Ok. But no burgers and fries this time, alright?"

Joey poked his tongue out again.


	4. Kiss of Dawn

Mick had to admit Joey did look a lot better. He would have said some of the colour had returned to Joey's cheeks, but as it was normal for Joey to not have colour, he couldn't. Instead, he said to himself that it was as though Joey was looking just a bit less pale, and a little more alive.

But for all of Joey's protestations that he was hungry, he had only managed a little bit of the fried rice that he had ordered from room service. Recalling the carnivorous way Joey had demolished his food last night, and how soon he was sick, Mick wondered if it wasn't so bad that he actually wasn't that hungry. He took the plate from Joey's hands - who didn't even complain - and put it back on the tray with his own. 

Joey flopped back onto the bed and Mick immediately worried that he was going to be sick. 

Sitting back down and leaning over him, Mick asked, "You ok?”

"Yeah. I think," Joey replied with a smile. 

Lying down beside him, Mick placed his left arm around Joey's head and the other hand on his stomach. Joey placed his own hands on Mick's, marvelling in the size difference between them. Mick started to rub gently, and Joey followed the motion with his hands, unwilling to break the contact. He sighed and rested his head against Mick's. 

"Mick?"

"Yeah?"

Joey turned his head to face the other man. Mick saw his eyes, wide and blue, and his pale skin, and the black hair that framed his face. Without thinking, he didn't wait for Joey to talk, and pressed his lips against his. Joey responded, kissing back, his tongue darting out to run along Mick's lower lip. Joey tightened his hold on Mick's hand, clinging on. Mick broke the kiss slowly, bringing his left hand around to brush the hair out of Joey's eyes. 

"You ok?"

Nodding, Joey squeezed his hand. 

Mick took in his flushed face and the slightly pinched look in his cheeks, and felt something he'd never felt before. He wasn't sure if it was love, lust, sheer protectiveness, or all three. At that moment, all he wanted to do was look after him, and as he stroked his face, Joey closed his eyes. Tilting his head back, he revelled in the loving touch.

He traced Joey's lips with his fingers, and as the smaller man opened them slightly in a small gasp, slipped his fingers inside. Joey sucked gently, eyes still closed. Mick stared and stared, and seemed lost, as he watched Joey before him. As the smaller man opened his eyes again, Mick bent down to kiss him on the forehead, a soft lingering touch, and Joey raised an arm to clutch at his neck.

He settled over the smaller man, and resumed their kiss. Mick slipped his tongue into Joey's mouth, probing. He felt hands slide over his shoulders, and back down to his waist. He kissed Joey's cheeks, and his jaw, and then started licking and sucking on the delicate skin just under his ear. Joey tilted his head back to allow Mick easier access, and started to moan quietly. Mick felt hands venture under his shirt, stroking his back. He pulled away and looked at Joey.

"Are you sure you are up to this?"

"Yeahhh." Joey's reply was stuttered as he gasped for air. 

"Tell me if you feel sick, or you want to stop, right?" 

Joey nodded. 

"Promise me!"

"I will, I promise!" 

With that, Mick reached down to gently slide Joey's shirt over his head. Joey lay bare and pale before him, his chest heaving, and Mick had to place his hand over his heart again, just to feel him breathe. His hands roamed down to the top of Joey's pants, and he carefully pulled his pants and boxers off. He felt hands on his arms, and Joey tugged at his shirt. Mick pulled his shirt off, and then stood up to strip his jeans. He was hard already, and he could see Joey watching him, pale, splayed out on the bed. Slowly he climbed back on the bed, and slowly he crawled over Joey, whose anxious and pleading eyes turned to his. Leaning down for another kiss, he ran his hands over Joey's shoulders. Exploring his chest, Mick brushed his hand over Joey's nipple, and brought his mouth down to suck gently. He felt Joey arch his back, and carefully held him down with a hand.

He kissed a trail across Joey's chest, and down his stomach. Joey was hard, and Mick took him in his mouth. He stroked his hands over Joey's thighs as he sucked, feeling Joey shudder and move under him. Joey moaned louder, gasping and crying out Mick's name. Tenderly, Mick parted Joey's legs, and started to explore with his fingers. Brushing over sensitive skin, Mick felt Joey buck. Probing, Mick eased his finger in Joey's entrance, and heard the drummer gasp. He slid his finger in and out, and stroked Joey's thighs, feeling him quiver under his skin. A second finger joined the first, and Joey gave an appreciative moan. Mick raised his head to check on him - his head was tilted back, eyes closed and lips full and red. He scissored his fingers, and could feel Joey was ready.

Sitting up, he reached for his bag. He knew he had lube in there somewhere... rummaging at the bottom he finally found it, buried amongst socks. Joey's eyes were half open on his flushed face, and Mick reached down for a kiss. He brushed Joey's hair from his forehead, and kissed him again softly. Sliding back down, he wrapped an arm under Joey's hip and carefully eased him up. 

Spreading his legs, Mick moved between them. Using the lube, he prepared Joey, slick fingers moving in and out, making Joey gasp. Mick lubed his cock, and carefully started to penetrate the smaller man. He kept his eyes on Joey's face as he entered, worried he might hurt him. Joey twisted his head and gasped, and his hands clung to Mick's arms.

"Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh...." Joey sighed as he felt Mick fill him up. Mick paused for a moment, to let Joey adjust, and when he smiled and rubbed his hands up Mick's arm, he knew it was ok to continue. He started to twist his hips, moving himself inside Joey, but not thrusting. Gently he moved, watching Joey again, and as he sensed Joey was coping, started to very slowly ease himself out again. His desire was such that he wanted to thrust hard, but love and care for Joey made him quiet. So he eased himself back in again calmly, careful for any sign of pain or sickness on Joey's face. As Joey relaxed, Mick increased the pace of his thrusts, until he was sliding in and out at a regular pace. 

Joey lay back with his hands still clinging to Mick's arms, fingernails digging into his skin. Arching his back, he carefully moved his hips in time to Mick's thrusts. He could feel every thrust Mick made, sending fire bolts up his spine to his brain, where they seemed to explode in never-ending displays of bliss. He'd never felt love like this before and he never wanted it to stop. Every touch Mick made on his skin ignited his senses, and he felt like he would explode with the myriad of pleasured and blissful feelings inside him. 

He felt it build up inside him, and started to whimper, and in response Mick reached an arm down between them to stroke Joey's hard on. Gasping, he threw his arms around Mick's neck and pulled him down into a furious kiss. It was only a few strokes before Joey began to lose control; it started at his groin and moved outwards like a ripple on a pond, and ripped every nerve from his body, heightening and exploding into ecstasy. As he came, he heard Mick moan and thrust one last time. 

Mick's orgasm was earth-shattering. Joey's muscles tightened around him and urged him into his climax, and his nirvana was absolute. His eyes closed of their own accord and he moaned loudly, an audible release of his inner bliss.

The next thing he was aware of was nearly collapsing on Joey, and he quickly changed course to land next to him. Joey seemed asleep, but as Mick reached up to touch his skin his eyes opened. Brushing his hair over his ears, Mick tenderly caressed Joey. 

"You ok?" he asked softly. 

"Yeah. Talk about making me feel better," he grinned. Mick matched his smile, and leaned in for a kiss. Joey tucked himself up to Mick, and drifted off to sleep. Mick held him close in his arms, feeling like he could really get used to this.


	5. It's All Tears (Drown in This Love)

Loud thumps on the door disturbed their sleep. Mick and Joey roused at the same time, blinking in the light. Reluctantly leaving Joey, Mick got off the bed and found their clothes. The thumps kept coming, and Mick roared at the door in frustration. The thumps stopped abruptly. Hopping around the floor, he pulled on his jeans and chucked Joey's pants up to him. Making sure Joey was covered, Mick answered the door. A sheepish looking Sid stood there.

"Thought I ought to warn you - we're leaving for the venue in 20mins." Mick glared, and Sid cowered. 

"Ok," Mick said, and shut the door in Sid's face. He heard laughter from the bed, and turned to see Joey sitting up and chuckling. 

"I think he thought you were going to punch him."

"He woke you up. I nearly did punch him."

Joey grinned even more. Mick walked back over to the bed and sat on it next to Joey. "I know you are probably getting sick of me asking this... but how are you feeling?"

The smaller man tilted himself forward until he rested against Mick, who wrapped him in his arms. "I feel ok. I promise," Joey said into Mick's shoulder. 

"Ok enough to make it through tonight's show? You still seem a little dehydrated."

Joey nodded his head. "I want to play."

"Ok, baby. Drink some water."

Mick ignored the dirty look he got from Joey, and handed him a glass from beside the bed. He made him take some paracetamol, and doing his best impression of a doctor, felt his forehead. 

"You're still hot."

"I'm always hot," Joey quipped.

Mick laughed and pretended to hit him. Joey flopped back onto the bed and Mick followed, gliding a hand over Joey's stomach. He stroked softly, and Joey sighed. They nearly fell asleep again, but pulled themselves up and repacked what little they had taken out of their cases. Mick refused to let Joey near his suitcase, instead he grabbed the both of them, one in each arm. Which unfortunately left no room for Joey, who had to console himself by watching Mick walk in front of him. 

*

Despite how well Joey felt after his sleep and 'relaxation', he came to realise he still wasn't completely better. The nausea came back before the show, but Joey suspected it was nerves, both about the show and also about being sick again (which was very ironic, he thought). Mick comforted him, as they huddled backstage in a dark corner of their dressing room. Thankfully, nothing came up, but it was with some trepidation that Joey took the stage again. The first few songs were ok, but approaching the middle of the set, Joey felt his energy draining. He was still dehydrated, and the exhausting drumming took a lot out of him. The solo was cut again, and Jim and Mick performed another guitar duel, giving Joey a chance to swallow several energy drinks (no one let him have any alcohol, no matter how badly he plead). 

But even the energy drinks were nearly not enough. By the third to last song, Joey was struggling to lift his drumsticks, and he could see the other members of his band looking back at him in sympathy. A quick conference after that song resulted in the next one being cut, much to Joey's relief. Mick laid a hand on his shoulder in encouragement, and Joey wished he could stay with him. 

One more song, and Joey could collapse in Mick's arms again. Grudgingly, Joey gathered up his sticks, glaring at them. He felt like he wanted to quit, but once again the roar and screams of the crowd pressed him on. 

Joey knew he didn't do well that last song. The others had had to slow down for him, and he felt awful that he'd ruined the song. Tossing his sticks down, he found he was trying to hold back tears. He was glad his mask hid his face, as the others came over to check on him. The last thing he wanted now was their sympathy, or worse, their anger. Mick seemed to understand, as he brushed the others aside and came up to Joey. The drummer felt like he couldn't even rise from his stool, and Mick leaned down to pick him up. He told the rest of the band he'd met them on the bus. 

Once he was safe in Mick's arms, Joey relaxed. A sudden feeling like being immerged in water came over him as he released the tension in his body. His body felt incredibly tired; exhaustion seeped from every pore. Resting his head on Mick's chest, he felt his tired eyes close. 

*

Mick had a sudden feeling of deja vu as he laid Joey down in the sofa on the top level of the bus. He took his familiar position beside Joey, and carefully removed his mask. Unzipping his boiler suit, Mick gently unclothed Joey. He was glad the next stop wasn't too far away; he wanted to give Joey a bath. Settling for a facecloth for now, Mick tenderly cleaned Joey's face. Joey barely stirred as Mick wiped the warm washcloth over him, and he wondered just how deeply asleep he was.

The others climbed into the bus, not bothering with showering at the venue as the next stop was only a few hours away. Mick was glad he and Joey weren't downstairs; the stink would be horrific

After removing his own boiler suit and changing his clothes, Mick sat back down next to a still-sleeping Joey. He lay back with the small drummer in his arms, and not feeling sleepy just yet, settled on an episode of 'South Park' to bide the time.

*

Sometime in the middle of the episode, Mick drifted off to sleep. The cartoon played on as the two slept, huddled together. Joey shifted in his sleep and Mick unconsciously held onto him, keeping the drummer close. He awoke as they drove into the city, and watched the lights pass by the bus as they wove through the empty streets. He cradled Joey in his arms while he still slept.

As the bus pulled up to the hotel, Mick carefully stood up, hugging Joey to his chest. Warily he made his way down below, minding the stairs. Once again, Corey waited with a key, and Jim and Paul grabbed their bags. Mick was thankful that his bandmates were so understanding. 

Making sure Joey was comfortable, Mick carried him up to their room. He was still asleep, eyes tightly closed and breathing softly. Once left alone with the room and the bags, Mick finally left some of the stresses of the day leave him. He had been so worried about Joey during the set; it was clear he was struggling. He thought they'd managed to do ok with the last song, it went down alright anyway. He knew Joey would be angry about it though, annoyed that he hadn't performed as well as he thought he should have. He didn't want Joey to beat himself up over it, being sick wasn't something he could have helped, and he did so well to keep going. 

Mick ran a hot bath, adding bath salts he found in the cabinet. He tested the water carefully, making sure it was neither too hot nor too cold, and once it was full enough, let it sit. He went back into the bedroom, and settled next to Joey on the bed. Tenderly, he started to remove his clothes, trying not to wake him, despite knowing he'd have to do it sooner or later. Once he was sans clothes, Mick gently picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. Carefully, he eased Joey into the water, keeping a delicate hold on him, as to not let him slip. Feeling the hot water around him, Joey awoke.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," Mick punctuated this sentence with a kiss. 

Joey smiled. The hot water felt like a tonic to his tired joints, and he started to relax. Mick kept an arm around him, while the other hand held a washcloth. Lovingly he began to run the soapy cloth over Joey's body, starting with his arms.  
Joey allowed Mick to bathe him, closing his eyes and relishing the experience. It felt nice to finally be clean again. He sighed as Mick brushed the cloth over his chest; his skin ached for touch, and he wished there was no fabric between their skin. He nearly fell asleep, only the gentle ministrations of Mick compelled him to stay awake. It was bliss laying there in the water, and Joey only wished the tub was big enough for two.

Carefully, Mick tilted his head back to wet his hair, and shampooed it. Joey made him go back into the room to find his 'special' shampoo; hotel shampoo was never good enough for him. Mick rinsed his hair with the portable shower head, making sure none of the water ran into Joey's eyes. With his hand he wiped the excess water from Joey's face, brushing his fingers over his closed eyes. He sat next to Joey, upright, one arm still behind him, the other now stroking his jaw. Joey opened his eyes slowly, seeing Mick's face before him. The taller man closed in and captured Joey's lips, slowly caressing, letting his kiss linger.

Joey smiled as Mick pulled away. He brought a hand up to hold onto Mick's arm, as if to say, _don't go_. The guitarist took in the drummer, sitting huddled in the bath, looking impossibly small and pale and he felt something inside him break. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around Joey and lifted him out onto his lap, still dripping wet. Mick ignored the increasing damp on his clothes as he pressed Joey to him, feeling the tiny body enveloped within his own. One hand combed through Joey's hair while the other one rubbed his hip. 

In the wet air of the bathroom, Joey began to shiver, as the water on his skin cooled. Mick pulled a towel from the rail and tucked it around him, making sure he was comfortable. Together they sat on the floor of the bathroom, Mick rocking Joey gently on his lap. Slowly, Joey drifted off again, asleep against Mick's chest. 

Mick was quite content to stay there, holding Joey, but the floor wasn't very soft. Slowly and carefully he rose, keeping the towel wrapped around Joey. He carried him into the bedroom, and gently lay him on the bed, trying hard not to wake him. Carefully, he ran the towel over Joey's soft skin, making sure he was completely dry. He tenderly lifted him over to slide the bedcovers over him, and sat by him for a while, just watching him sleep.


	6. Our Diabolikal Rapture

After what might have been a few minutes or a few hours, Mick reluctantly left Joey's side for a shower. He washed himself as quickly as possible, trying not to think of Joey waking up while he wasn't there. His whole being seemed to be in tune with Joey, and the thought of the smaller man consumed him. The protectiveness that flowed through his veins and made him care for Joey like he'd never cared for anything before both confused and exalted him. He'd never felt more alive.

Still thinking, he dried himself off quickly and walked naked into the bedroom. Dimming the lights, he slid under the covers next to Joey, taking him into his arms. Joey seemed to fit so perfectly with him, like a lost piece of a puzzle that Mick had been looking for his whole life. He almost didn't want to sleep, he just wanted to hold and watch Joey for ever. But he drifted off to dream with Joey, and in their sleep, they still clung to each other.

Mick dreamt of black hair and soft, white skin, and bright, ice blue eyes that tore into his soul. Even in his sleep, Joey imbibed him. Not content to invade his day dreams and thoughts, Joey appeared in his dreams as a vision.

Then his dream changed, and the apparition seemed to twist and distort, and blur. Mick began to stir, the vision disturbing him. A quiet cry pierced his sleep, and something jerked in his arms.

With alarm, Mick woke. Joey was in pain and upset, writhing in his arms. His eyes leaked hot tears as he choked down groans, and the discomfort forced him to move. Desperately he tried to find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. Mick felt hopeless, watching his lover in such obvious pain, and as Joey tried to climb out of bed to stand up Mick forced himself to move. Sliding after Joey, he grabbed him just as Joey's legs began to buckle.

Carefully he lowered him to the ground, clinging Joey to him. He held him as his body spasmed, stroking Joey's face and murmuring comfort. Slowly, Joey's groans turned to whimpers, and his body settled, lying weakly in Mick's arms. His stomach had felt like it was trying to tear him into two. Now, the nausea started to flood over him, and he rushed out of Mick's embrace to the bathroom.

This time, the vomiting seemed to go on and on. He shook and trembled as his stomach convulsed, feeling Mick's hands desperately trying to console and soothe him. Each time he thought it was finished he would gag again, tears streaming down his face. When, finally, his stomach seemed to have stopped heaving, he collapsed back into Mick. His body felt drained and sore, and he was exhausted, physically and mentally. He let the tears fall, sobbing, not ashamed to cry in the wake of the pain.

Mick fought away his own tears, trying to stay strong. His despair at Joey's agony ripped at him, and he felt as though he was experiencing the same pain. Joey felt frail and weak, and his small body seemed too fragile to take much more. Tenderly he lifted Joey, worried he might break. Passing back into the bedroom, Mick lay Joey on the bed, spreading the covers back over him. The small man appeared to be asleep, but as Mick lay next to him, his reddened eyes opened. 

"Mick?"

"Joey.... shhhhhh..." Mick stroked his face, brushing away the hair from his damp face. "I'm gonna be here, I won't leave you," he reassured.

Content, Joey fell back into oblivion, and Mick hoped that in his sleep, he felt no pain.

*

This time, Mick did not sleep. He couldn't have if he'd tried. He kept a watch on Joey all night, hoping he wouldn't have another episode. Thankfully, the darkness disappeared into day without Joey in distress again. He lay there until the small figure beside him began to stir, and Mick laid a hand on his chest. Joey woke quietly, his eyes tired and drawn. He reached up to grip Mick's hand, and hung onto it tightly.

"Do you feel sick?" Mick asked anxiously.

"I feel sore," Joey answered, and it seemed just to speak was an effort. 

Mick sat up, still holding Joey's hand, and reached over the painkillers on the sidetable. He made Joey swallow two, holding the glass up to his mouth to drink. Joey lay back on the pillows with a sigh, eyes closed. 

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," Mick whispered to him.

Joey shook his head. "I don't want to sleep. All I do is sleep... "

Mick kissed him softly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Joey smiled weakly. "Make me feel better."

His eyes opened, and he held his arms out for Mick. Mick chuckled and pulled Joey onto him, so the smaller man lay between his legs with his head on his chest. Mick's hands drifted to Joey's stomach, rubbing gently. Joey sighed, and relaxed in Mick's arms. Feeling Joey calm and loosen, Mick continued to rub. He stroked in circles, slightly alarmed at the obvious weight loss, but kept it to himself. Joey's soft skin yielded to his touch, and Mick felt himself start to relax as well. His hands roamed lower, and brushed over the trimmed hair by Joey's groin. He teased Joey by removing his hands and sliding them down to his inner thighs instead. Joey spread his legs as Mick ran his hands up and down the delicate, sensitive skin.

Joey started to buck his hips slightly as Mick edged closer to his now hard cock. As hands wrapped around him, he moaned, bracing his head back into Mick's shoulder. The pain in his stomach started to disappear as the hands worked over him, stroking his length. The pleasure from his groin spread to every part of his body, sparking and burning. He moaned as Mick increased the friction, and shifted slightly, opening his legs more. Mick got the point. One of his hands reached out for the sidetable, and touched on the lube. He briefly let go of Joey to squirt some onto his finger, and then he stretched down to between Joey's legs again. One hand returned to Joey's aching cock, and the lubed hand drifted further down. 

He circled Joey's entrance, letting the lube grease him. Slowly, he pressed a finger in, registering that this time, it was easier. Joey gasped as Mick began to thrust in and out. Every nerve in his body was on fire. Mick slid another finger in, and continued to stroke Joey. He felt his own hard on straining, and pressing against Joey's thigh. A small hand crept down, and Mick was aware that Joey was gripping his cock, guiding it to his entrance. Mick let his fingers slide out, and with one hand lifted Joey's hips up slightly. Together, he and Joey pressed himself in, and Mick sighed at the tight, warm feeling that enveloped him. Joey gripped him, holding on as Mick began to thrust upwards gently.

They rocked together slowly, hips moving in unison, and Mick kept up his stroking. One of Joey's hands joined him eagerly. Leaning back, Joey moaned, savouring the intense feelings. Mick kept a careful hold on Joey, making sure he didn't go too hard or fast, he could feel that the drummer was weak. He wasn't entirely sure that this was what the doctor had in mind when he said to take care of him, but Joey appeared to have improved vastly over the last few minutes. He resisted the urge to thrust hard, and Joey seemed quite happy with their current pace.

Mick looked down to check on him, and was reassured by the contented look on his face. His eyes were closed, and the strained, tired look that aged him only minutes ago had gone. Instead, he looked relaxed, and Mick figured sex was as good a tonic as any. He caressed Joey's forehead and was pleased to see the smile that crept across his face. Mick had to admit that there was something to slow, gentle sex. He'd always thought the faster and harder the better, but the prolonged, drawn out thrusting seemed to increase his pleasure.

He shifted Joey slightly in his arms, to bring him up closer. Almost at once, Joey started to moan, his chest heaving, hands grabbing at Mick. His head tilted back and then forwards again, and Mick sensed changing his angle of thrusting had caused the heightened ecstasy. Just hearing Joey moan and cry out his name caused Mick to shudder, and he thought he couldn't last much longer. Joey seemed close as well, and he urged Mick to stroke him faster. Together they moved closer to orgasm, but Mick took no chances with Joey. He refused to thrust faster, and kept a gentle hand on his stomach to steady him.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh yesssss....." Joey hissed, and Mick felt him tense. With a choked moan, Joey came, spilling all over their hands. Mick wasn't far behind; feeling Joey's muscles contract around him, he released. His arms curled tighter around the smaller man and their bodies quivered, as one in their ecstasy. Joey moaned a final time and Mick clung to him.

They lay, chests heaving, in their afterglow. Joey tucked his head into Mick and sighed, eyes closing in exhaustion. Sleep was beckoning. It was not so easy for Mick.

He was concerned about Joey, who seemed to have faded. He struggled to lift his hands to let Mick clean them, and could barely mumble a response when Mick asked how he was feeling. His skin was pale and clammy, and Mick cursed his stupidity. Joey was far too sick to be indulging in physically tiring activities, no matter how enticing the event. 

He lay Joey on the bed next to him, and headed for the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. On the way back in he glanced at the clock on the sidetable. 11.30am. No wonder he was hungry. He hoped it would be enough time for Joey to get some sleep for the gig. How Mick currently cursed Slipknot... Joey needed days, at least a week off to build up his strength again. Having to go back out on stage each night while he was ill was delaying his recovery, and he was in no doubt that it was playing last night that caused Joey's sickness this morning. 

He thought about telling the guys that Joey just couldn't play - cancel the show, find another drummer, whatever, but let him sleep. Then he realised how unfair that was, and although a part of him was so desperate for Joey to get well he would go behind his back to make him rest, the rest of him knew it was Joey's decision, not his. And he knew Joey would want to play. 

Tenderly, he wiped the wet cloth over Joey's face, refreshing him from the sweat that had built up during sex. Joey was now unnaturally thin; his hips stuck out prominently and Mick could count his ribs. His skin was stretched thin and transparent, and Mick was afraid it would rip if he moved. It had been so long since Joey had eaten. He was struggling to keep down water as it was. 

Feeling sick to his stomach at how thin Joey now was, Mick settled on the bed to keep an eye on him. He was sleeping soundly, barely moving, and Mick slid the bedcovers over him to keep him warm.


	7. In Joy and Sorrow

At 4.30pm, Mick knew he had to wake Joey up. The bus was leaving in 10mins, and he still had to get dressed. As slowly and gently as he could, as if in an effort to not wake Joey up at all and thus leave him be, he shook his shoulder. Joey murmured in his sleep but didn't wake. 

"Joey?" Mick whispered.

Another rub on the shoulder, and the small man began to stir. He found it hard to wake - he felt as though he was fighting through thick water, trying desperately to reach the sunlit surface that taunted him above, so close and yet so far. 

Mick rinsed the cloth in cold water in the bathroom, and patted it around Joey's face. The chilly sensation brought Joey to the surface, and he opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and rimmed by dark circles. Joey looked like the living dead. Another time and place and Joey would have loved that, but right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. 

"What?" he mumbled. 

Mick looked at him in sympathy. "Bus leaves soon. Do you want to play?"

Joey had forgotten about the show tonight. _Dammit!_ "I have to, don't I?"

"You're really sick, Joey."

Joey wasn't having any of it. He sat up, and was immediately hit by a bus. Or so he thought. His head swayed on his shoulders and he saw the room fly around him, and 3 Micks. One of the Micks came to his side and held onto him, and slowly the dizziness evaporated. 

"Do you want to try having something to eat?" Mick asked. He had ordered a sample of just about everything on the meal from room service, and most of it was still sitting on the tray. Joey reached for a sandwich, hoping food would help and not hinder him. He choked down several mouthfuls and felt a bit better, enough to risk standing up. Holding onto Mick, he stood up slowly, and almost instantly felt his knees buckle. Mick grabbed him and sat him down again.

"I just need more food," Joey insisted. 

Mick wasn't fooled. Joey looked awful. It would take more than food to help him. 

Joey managed the rest of the sandwich, and sat for a few minutes. The next attempt at standing was better, he managed to stay upright this time. Walking was a whole other story, though. The room swayed, and quite alarmingly, started to lurch from side to side, making it awfully difficult for Joey to walk in a straight line. Holding onto Mick, he made it to the bathroom, and then into his boilersuit. By that stage he was exhausted, and felt more ill than he had in the last few days since he caught this damn bug. At least his stomach hadn't decided to expel its contents just yet. 

A knock on the door startled them, and Shawn came in. "Holy hell! You look like shit!"

Joey managed a glare, and so did Mick. 

"You going to be ok?" Shawn asked. 

Joey nodded. Mick had other ideas. He shook his head at the percussionist. "He can barely stand. There's no way he can drum," Mick said.

"I want to try," Joey said, trying to sound angry and managing to sound like a dead man instead.

"You and your sense of duty, Joey. It will kill you one day. Let's hope today ain't it." With that, Shawn opened the door. Mick reluctantly picked Joey up, preferring to leave the drummer right where he was. They made their way downstairs, Shawn with the bags Mick had packed. The others were waiting on the bus, and even Sid fell silent when he saw the state of Joey. The look on Mick's face kept them quiet. 

Mick held Joey in his lap on the way to the venue. Joey had drifted off again, which Mick was thankful for. He knew there was no way Joey could play. He just couldn't see tonight's gig going off as planned.

*

Fans were lining up around the block, and Mick couldn't help but feel bad. They had no idea tonight’s concert would either be drastically different, or at worst, cancelled. He hoped there would be no riots. He knew if he was lining up to see his favourite band, he would be gutted and angry if they couldn't play. 

Pulling up around the back, Mick lifted a very light Joey in his arms. He didn't move as Mick carried him downstairs and to their dressing room. Mick brushed past their manager, who looked alarmed at the sight of Joey. Laying Joey on a couch, Mick sat down next to him with his head in his hands.

"Joey can't play."

There was no argument. Whether that was because they all could tell Joey was in a bad way, or because they thought Mick would thump them if they disagreed, Mick didn't know. But they knew they would be without their drummer that night.

Mick let the others discuss their options, and instead watched Joey. At one point, Chris drifted over, and stood watching over him too. "He needs a doctor."

Mick had never agreed with anything so much in his life. 

Chris lay a hand on his back. "It's gotta be so hard for you."

Mick turned to face him. _What was Chris talking about? Did he know?_ But it was obvious from the look on his face that he did know. Mick swallowed, and nodded, turning his glance back to the sleeping figure on the couch. 

Sudden loud expressions of agreement occurred from the huddle of Slipknot members on the other side of the dressing room. Mick told them to shut up harshly, even though he was sure Joey wouldn't wake up to an elephant storming the room. Paul apologised, and told him that Shawn would drum. 

They rearranged the setlist to the songs that Shawn knew well on the drums, and Corey was nominated for explaining to the crowd their new line up. 

*

Mick thought they pulled it off quite well. Although there was some booing and yells from certain parts of the crowd when Corey explained about Joey, most of the fans were understanding. It wasn't quite a normal Slipknot show. On two occasions they got things bungled up and had to stop, but the audience members seemed to think they were witnessing a one of a kind Slipknot show and put up with it, so they could brag to their friends later that they had seen that Slipknot show with Shawn on drums. At least, that's what Mick figured.

He spent most of the gig worrying about Joey. A medic was sitting guard with him, and Mick knew he was in good hands, but he didn't want Joey to wake up and realise what was happening without Mick there to talk to him. He knew the drummer would be livid. But Joey really wasn't in good enough shape to come out here and play, and Mick figured they'd have had to stick Shawn behind the kit at some point anyway. He tried to concentrate on playing, but ended up just going through the motions. His heart wasn't in it. It wasn't the same without Joey, and Mick knew he wasn't the only one thinking that. 

The last song came as a relief. He had spent the last 90 minutes waiting for it to be over. He had tried to be enthusiastic, he really had, but the truth was he couldn't have cared less about the gig. He just wanted it to be done, so he could be back where he belonged.

Joey was still asleep. He hadn't woken up at all, which was probably a good thing. The medic had inserted an IV, and Mick was thankful to see he was getting some rehydration. He was quite prepared to sit down and take his rightful place next to Joey when Shawn stopped him and made him take a shower first. 

"10 more minutes won't kill either of you," he pointed out, smiling softly.

Mick had a very quick shower, but had to admit he felt better afterwards. Anxiously he headed back into the dressing room, where of course, Joey was still sleeping like the dead. Mick noted he had barely moved from his original position on the couch. Hoping that wasn't a bad sign, he sat down, and gratefully took hold of a plate of pizza their manager had brought in. He ate slowly, not tasting the pizza at all, and it took him 5 minutes to notice the bottle of beer Craig sat down next to him. Chris shot him a sympathetic look as he kept his vigil over Joey, and Mick gave him a wan smile in return.

He couldn't talk about that day. About the guilt that sat inside him like a caged tiger, haunting his thoughts. He had been far too careless with Joey that morning. He was supposed to be taking care of him, and instead exhausted him to the point of collapse. Mick vowed to never again let his cock rule his head. Even though it was what Joey had wanted, it wasn't what he needed, which was sleep and water. He knew he wouldn't feel any better about it until Joey had recovered. 

"Ok boys, we need to move out!" Their manager's voice rang out through the dressing room, and Mick stuffed the last mouthful of pizza into his mouth. The medic took out the drip and repeated the mantra - sleep and water, food eventually - and Mick carefully took Joey into his arms again. The drummer gave no indication of rousing, which didn't surprise Mick. 

He made the familiar way to their couch on the top deck of the bus, now adorned with various pillows and blankets. No hotel tonight; they were driving right through to the morning. He made Joey comfortable, settling him amongst the cushions and laying a rug over him. Mick grabbed another beer and sat down in the couch opposite, not feeling the need to sleep despite the lack of it last night. He ignored the TV and video games. Instead, he sat watching Joey as the bus pulled out into the night, and as they ate up the miles he lost himself. It was somewhere near the border that he finally drifted off.


	8. Close to the Flame

"Mick?" A quiet voice was calling him. "Mick?" A little louder. 

At the third try, Mick shifted, and woke up. Joey wanted him, and he'd been asleep. He mentally kicked himself. Suddenly, he was wide awake. Standing up, he moved over to the couch Joey lay huddled up on. He knelt down and stroked the side of Joey's face. He seemed better for the sleep and fluids. 

"Hey baby." He leaned forward to kiss Joey's forehead softly. 

"Where are we?"

"I dunno. Somewhere on the road to Kansas City."

Joey frowned. "What about the gig?"

"Shawn played. We let you sleep."

It wasn't what Joey wanted to hear. "I told you I wanted to play!"

"I know, sweetheart, but you couldn't. You were so weak."

Joey could see Mick was pleading for him to understand, and he melted under the knowledge that Mick really did care for him. He reached out for Mick's hand, and pulled gently. Mick understood. Holding Joey carefully, he slid himself onto the couch. Joey settled next to him, still clutching his hand. He was so tired, like he'd never have the energy to walk again. Having Mick holding him rested his mind, and he closed his eyes again. 

*

Mick was awake when they drove into Kansas City. The bus seemed eerily quiet; it was far too early for anyone else to be out of bed. Joey was curled up on his chest, deeply asleep. Idly stroking Joey's hair, Mick lay back, watching the darkness weaken into light. He hoped today would be different. That the comatose-like sleep Joey was experiencing would fix everything; he'd wake up well and healthy and bounce back into life like the hyperactive kid he normally was. But hope was but hope after all; a belief, not a tangible thing. No matter how much Mick wished for Joey to be better, wishing couldn't make it so.

And so it was that Joey awoke several hours later with the familiar feeling of nausea haunting him. He thought that maybe if he didn't open his eyes, he could go back to sleep and wake up later without feeling sick. But the reality was that he'd been feeling sick almost constantly over the last three days, and it was a bit much to expect it to go away with a bit of sleep. He felt Mick's arms tighten around him and heard a voice whisper in his ear.

"You slept like you were dead. I'm glad to see you're back."

Joey smiled. Mick seemed to have a way of making him feel better, despite the sickness in his stomach. Lips softly kissed him and he opened his eyes, tilting his head back so he could see Mick. 

The bigger man seemed to know as he looked at Joey that he still wasn't feeling well. He didn't say anything, just sighed and looked somewhat pensive. Joey curled up again, and Mick resumed stroking his hair. He felt so hopeless.

Sounds of bandmates stumbling out of bed were heard from below, and Mick was glad Joey was already awake, because that commotion would have done it. Someone tripped over a bag and another person stood on a half empty beer can. Chris came upstairs to rescue a shirt, and stopped for a minute to sit on the table by the couch. He took in Joey, and Mick saw the disappointment register on his face. He obviously wasn't the only one hoping for a miraculous recovery. 

"How ya doing, Joe?" Chris asked. 

"Mma sick," Joey mumbled, barely opening his mouth. He didn't want to move, and moving included talking. He appreciated Chris coming to see him, but at the same time, he wasn't really in the mood for visitors. 

Mick shrugged at Chris. "Can Shawn play again today?"

Chris nodded. "They went over a few more songs last night. Gonna add a couple."

Joey knew he wasn't capable of drumming, but still felt a small glimmer of something like jealousy. HE was the drummer, not Shawn; there was a reason he was behind the kit and not just a percussionist banging a few barrels. Lying sick on a couch somewhere while someone else sat in for him wasn't his idea of fun. He cursed whatever it was that was making him ill. 

Chris and Mick discussed a few more small things, and the percussionist got back up to head downstairs again. The noise was getting louder and it seemed like there was a fight brewing over the last bagel. Chris prepared to enter the fray with a mock-stern look at Mick, and the guitarist laughed as the other man headed down the stairs.

Joey felt Mick laugh, and it was almost infectious. He smiled in spite of himself, despite not knowing what he was laughing about. It felt like a long time since he'd been able to laugh and joke around, and it was simple things like that which he missed most. And food.

He could hear Mick's heart beating as he lay there, and quietly he eased his arm up to rest a hand over the beat. He pressed gently, and felt Mick's chest rise into his palm. His eyes concentrated on his hand, watching it move with the rhythm of Mick's breathing. A hand was stroking his forehead, and he started to feel sleepy again.

Mick brought his other hand up to rest on Joey's, marvelling at the size difference. Joey's hand was so small and delicate compared to his, and he squeezed it gently, taking it within his own. He could feel Joey starting to relax and wondered if he was falling asleep again. Looking down, he could see his eyes were closed.

Just a minute later they jerked open again as something broke downstairs. Yelling promptly ensued, and Mick sighed. “It's ok Joe, go back to sleep.”

But sleep would prove impossible, as the yelling increased. Mick couldn't quite make out who it was, but he vowed to find out and deliver an ass-kicking. 

Mick promptly forgot about the arguing downstairs as Joey squirmed in his arms and tried to sit up. He was still quite weak and only made it halfway before heading back down again. Mick caught him, and sat him up gently. Joey lay his head against Mick's as he fought the dizziness.

“Do you feel sick?” Mick asked him. 

One look at Joey's face was all he needed to know. The dizziness was doing something to his stomach, and it wasn't good. Mick helped him stand up as he made for the bathroom. The room spun, but he was quite familiar with the path now and he got there in time. 

He held onto the bathroom wall as his stomach heaved, and felt Mick behind him, rubbing his back. Whatever good the IV had done last night was quickly undone as Joey threw up whatever was left in his stomach. Mick wiped his face tenderly after he stopped vomiting, and held him until he stopped shaking. A knock on the door disturbed them as a voice asked if everything was ok. Chris. 

Mick opened the door, letting Chris know silently it wasn't ok. He picked Joey up softly and carried him back to the couch, past several other members who had come up as well. 

“Way to go guys, for being dicks. You're really helping,” Mick scolded. He knew he was being irrational, that Joey would have thrown up anyway. But he was so tired of holding Joey as he threw up and watching him suffer that he was short to the point of temper. 

The others stood in silence as Mick set Joey on the couch. The small man immediately turned on his side and curled up, and Mick lay a blanket over him. He was asleep in seconds. 

Mick sat down on the small table in front of the couch, and the rest of the guys sat down as well. Corey, Jim and Paul came up from where they had been eating downstairs and found themselves a place. It seemed a band conference was in order. 

Mick rested his head on his hands. “Joey needs to go home. He can't stay here like this. He's just getting worse.”

Chris nodded slowly, Corey and Shawn just looked downcast, and the others either stared at Joey in sympathy or studied their hands. 

“What do we do? Do we cancel, or do we carry on with Shawn?” Craig piped up. 

Chris looked at Mick. “I don't think Mick is finished.”

Seven heads turned to Mick. “What's up?” Corey asked.

Mick swallowed. This was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, and he wasn't looking forward to it. “I want to go back with Joey.”

Silence. They all looked horror-struck, apart from Chris, who seemed to have guessed a while ago that it would come down to this. 

“I sorry,” Mick said. “But this is something I need to do.”

Paul seemed to find his voice. “Just what the fuck is going on with you and Joey anyway?”

Mick stared at him. “What do you fucking reckon, you idiot?”

Paul didn't know how to respond. 

“So, we are going to have to cancel?” Sid asked, nearly whispering. 

“Or find another guitar player,” Jim said.  
“I dunno about the rest of you, but Slipknot isn't Slipknot without all of us. I'm not going on with a replacement,” Corey stated bluntly. The others all seemed to agree. 

“So we're going home then,” Shawn said, looking somewhat apprehensive. 

“Look, for all we know, Joey will be back on his feet in a week. Maybe we only have to cancel a few dates,” Paul pointed out. 

Mick didn't seem so sure. “Joey's fucked. He can barely walk. He spends the whole day either throwing up or sleeping. I think it might take more than a week for him to recover.”

“Can't we just take it day by day?” Jim asked. 

Shawn shook his head. “If we are going to cancel some dates, we have to let them all know at once. We can't just phone up in the morning and tell 'em we ain't coming.” 

“We playing tonight, right?” Paul asked.

Shawn nodded. “I'll drum. But we can't carry on like this.”

“So, who gets to tell Cory then?” Sid asked. 

No one said anything. Mick sighed. “I will. It's my problem, not yours.” Silence descended on the bus. 

Mick moved over the couch and sat on the edge, checking on Joey. He was fast asleep, his face pale and drawn. Mick brushed a stray hair off his forehead, noting that he had a fever again. Ignoring the others, he stood up to head to the bathroom for a cold washcloth. His bandmates watched quietly as he gently wiped Joey's face, and settled the cloth on his forehead. 

Corey watched with an odd mixture of fascination and curiosity. He'd always thought Joey was quite effeminate, and wasn't surprised at all that he went for guys. Mick, on the other hand... now that was out of left field. He had a hundred questions, none of them he would ever ask. It wasn't his place, even though the desire to know burned inside him. He decided he would be happy for them instead.

Paul was bemused. He'd never considered himself a bigot or anti-homosexuality, but he'd also thought it would be the last thing to happen in the Slipknot camp. Like Corey, he'd had questions about Joey, and was sure he'd once seen the little drummer head off with a guy at an after-show party, but hell, they could have been doing anything. So he'd put it out of his mind. Now, the evidence was right in front of them. And Mick seemed pretty happy to ignore them, and go about tending to Joey.

On the whole, the rest of Slipknot were responding as many people do at car crashes. They couldn't look away. Shawn had been wondering why Mick had taken it upon himself to take care of Joey, and now he knew. He also wondered what else they had been doing. Sid was staring with unashamed interest; James with some confusion. Mick had never indicated to him at all that he leaned both ways, and since James thought he and Mick got on pretty well, he was slightly irked. 

Mick continued to ignore them, and slowly they got the message. One by one they headed downstairs, until only Chris was left. He got Mick some water bottles from the kitchen and sat down on the empty spot on the table. 

“He's gonna be ok, Mick,” Chris said softly.

Mick looked up from where he was caressing Joey's face. “Sometimes I think he'll never get better. And it's only been 3 days.”

“Check him straight into a hospital when we get home. They'll find out what's wrong. He'll be on the road to recovery before you know it.” 

Mick nodded. The idea of Joey finally getting some decent medical care was a bright spot in the darkness. He knew hospitals couldn't fix everything, but they were better than the odd medic and a pack of paracetamol.

“I just want him to be back to normal. I swear, he's lost about 20 pounds already,” Mick said, speaking to Chris but looking at Joey. Mick would have barely noticed if he'd lost 20 pounds, but the same off Joey was a significant amount. He hadn't had anything proper to eat in days, and he could barely keep water down. He looked like a skeleton. Mick ran his hand down his chest and body and felt the bony protuberances that dug into his hand. 

“Do you want me to get him something to eat?” Chris asked. “I can get the bus driver to stop.”

Mick shook his head. “I don't want to wake him up. And I think he'll just end up throwing it up. But thanks anyway.” He smiled. “You've really been the only one who's understood this whole time. Heck, the rest of 'em all looked freaked to hell before.”

Chris laughed. “It'll take em a few days to get used to it. But they'll get there. Paul'll be the hardest to convince I think.” He grew serious. “Mick, honestly? I love you with Joey. I said to him a few days ago that I've never seen you act like you have been with him before. I can tell you're crazy about him. And he loves you.”

Mick looked at him. “You think so?”

Chris nodded. “You know what Joey's normally like. Even with his so-called girlfriends, he acts like he hardly knows them. When he's with you, you can see how much he thinks of you.”

Stroking Joey's face softly, Mick stared down at him and contemplated Chris's words. He knew he and Joey had something special going on, and he just hoped that it would last a long time, unlike some of his other relationships. 

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, dude.” 

Chris smiled. He'd said all he wanted to say. Standing up, he nodded a goodbye to Mick, and headed downstairs after the others.


	9. I'm For You

When Joey woke up at 40 minutes past 12, he found himself not on the couch on the bus he'd fallen asleep in, but a large, comfortable hotel bed. He surmised Mick had carried him in again, and wondered if it was becoming a trend. He could feel Mick beside him, one of his arms wrapped around his body. The other was around his head, his hand still resting on Joey's hair. 

Joey wriggled around slightly until he was facing Mick. He didn't feel sleepy anymore, and was quite content to watch the guitarist sleep. His stomach was doing flip-flops, but at least he didn't feel like throwing up again. Just yet, anyway. 

He slipped a hand under Mick's shirt and ran his palm up his stomach to his chest. Joey enjoyed being connected to him like this, and he rubbed his hand gently. Mick's skin was soft but his muscles were hard, and the juxtaposition was tantalising. Joey tucked himself into Mick and let his head rest against his collarbone, breathing in the scent that rolled off Mick's skin. 

Joey lay there for a long time, just touching, and he thought he might have drifted off at one point. He was pleased that Mick was finally getting the chance to get some rest, after spending most of his energy looking after him. He edged a hand up to brush the hair away from Mick's face, and smiled as he saw brown eyes blink open slowly. Mick sighed deeply and woke up. He wrapped his arms around Joey and kissed him on the top of his head

“How you doing?” he asked, looking at Joey anxiously.

“I feel ok. My stomach is a bit wobbly.

Mick laughed at Joey's description. He leaned down for a kiss, pleased that Joey was feeling even just a bit better. His skin was still pale and drawn, and he looked exhausted, despite the long sleep he'd had. 

“Still sleepy?” he asked softly.

“I don't feel sleepy. Just tired,” Joey grinned, knowing that all sounded quite confusing.

Mick understood. “Do you want something to eat?” 

“Yeah. Dunno what though. Beer?” 

Mick tickled him. Pushing Joey onto his back he straddled him and attacked his waist. Joey squealed and laughed, before Mick stopped suddenly. Not the best thing to do when you weren't feeling well. Mick started to feel guilty again. 

Joey noticed the look on his face. “I'm not going to break, you know,” he said softly. 

Mick leaned down and kissed him, feeling Joey's arms snake around his neck. 

“I'm just so worried about you,” Mick whispered, only inches away from Joey's face. He could see the redness in his eyes, the heavy bags under them, and the white tinge on his cheeks. Joey looked up at him, and saw the concern in his face. Mick looked sad, almost... Joey couldn't help it. He'd never had anyone look after him the way Mick had. He could tell every second of the day how much Mick cared. He tried to blink away the tears before Mick saw them, but it didn't work. 

Something pulled at Mick as he saw the glistening tears in Joey's eyes. He could tell the drummer was trying to get rid of them, but Mick didn't care. He leaned down and tenderly kissed away the tears rolling down his face, feeling Joey's hands grip his neck. A small sob racked Joey's body as he felt Mick's lips on his skin, and he fought the urge to start bawling. Emotion welled up inside him as Mick held him close, and he cursed himself for feeling so weak.

Joey clung to Mick as the bigger man soothed and caressed him. Eyes tightly shut, he shivered as Mick concentrated on kissing a spot just under his ear. He cried out as the sublime sensation rippled and flowed through him, his toes curling and back arching. Fingernails dug into Mick's shoulders and he gasped for air, feeling Mick's tongue lick a path along his collarbone.  
“Mmmiccckkk......” he moaned, hands now clutching Mick's hair, as the guitarist worked his way back up to Joey's lips. He hushed him with a kiss, sliding his lips over Joey's and sucking the corner of his mouth. 

Stroking Joey's hair, Mick breathed deeply. “I love you so much,” he whispered into Joey's ear.

It was enough to send Joey into tears again. “I love you too.”

Mick gently wiped the tears away. He smiled, blinking back tears of his own. Goddamn, he hadn't cried since he was a kid and scraped his knee falling down. He had always thought real men didn't cry, but right now, he could have cared less. Joey was the only thing he cared about. 

He pressed his lips to Joey again, this time a slow, gentle, drawn-out kiss that elicited a moan from the smaller man. Mick let the kiss linger, brushing his lips to Joey's again and again. One last kiss, and Mick lay next to Joey again, pulling him up to his chest. Joey pressed his head to Mick and felt the bigger man slide his hand under his shirt. Mick's warm hand rubbed his skin, and Joey heard him gasp lowly as he felt the ribs that stuck through Joey's skin. 

Joey reached down to grasp Mick's arm, and felt the big man sit up. Gentle hands lifted his t-shirt up, and brushed over his skin. He looked up at Mick, who was studying his stomach, concern written all over his face. He tightened his grip around Mick's arm, and the guitarist turned his attention to him.

“I'm ok, Mick,” he whispered.

But they both knew he wasn't. Mick's fingers traced the troughs between Joey's ribs, and felt the depression that was his stomach.

“Baby..... “ Mick sighed. 

Joey pulled his shirt down, and tried to sit up. Mick grabbed him and held him steady, sliding his arms around Joey. “Shhhhhh.....” Mick murmured in his ear. Joey was shivering in his arms, and Mick grabbed a blanket off the bed, wrapping it around him. He rocked gently, holding Joey to him and stroking his hair. 

They sat for a while, Mick comforting Joey on his lap. His shaking subsided and he started to relax, a hand clinging to Mick's shirt. 

“Do you want a bath?” Mick whispered in his ear.

Joey nodded, his hand tightening its grasp on Mick. 

Standing up slowly, holding Joey, Mick made his way to the bathroom. He sat Joey down carefully on the floor, making sure he was covered in the blanket, and not cold. He ran the water, checking the temperature. Sitting back down next to Joey as they waited for the bath to fill, Mick slid his arm around the smaller man's back and felt his head lay against his shoulder. 

"I'm taking you home tomorrow," he said, kissing the top of Joey's head. 

"What about the tour?" Joey asked, confused. 

"It's off until you get better. We decided last night. You're more important than this band."

"But the fans?”

"We'll reschedule."

"Management and the record company?" 

"I told them this morning. They're a bit pissed, but they understand. All of us are going home."

Joey wasn't sure what to feel. Relieved that he was going home at last, or angry and disappointed with himself that they'd had to cancel several dates of the tour because of him. He swallowed hard, and felt Mick pull him closer. 

"It's ok, babe. You need to be at home. These things happen. The most important thing right now is that you get better."

Mick squeezed Joey's shoulder, and saw the smaller man nod slowly. He knew he would be upset about cancelling the gigs, and Mick just hoped Joey wasn't entertaining thoughts of being a failure. He couldn't help being sick. Being on the road would just make it worse. 

The water in the bath threatened to overflow, and Mick slowly left his place on the floor. He tested the water after closing the faucets, and deeming it satisfactory, turned his attentions back to his boyfriend. Crouching down in front of him, Mick slid his hands slowly up the smaller man's arms. Stroking his shoulders, Mick smiled at him. 

"You ok?" he asked softly.

Joey still looked very ill to his eyes. He seemed to be a living corpse, and in a way, Mick dreaded stripping him of his clothes. He knew he would see what a walking skeleton Joey had become, and it hurt him so much so see how Joey was suffering. But he didn't want Joey to see his reservations, and so he reached down to slide the t-shirt off Joey's tiny frame.

Mick forced his gasp to die in his throat and refused to let his face reveal his thoughts. Joey looked awful, and it was heart-breaking. His once well-defined arms were stick-thin and his shoulder blades stuck through his skin. Lifting Joey up carefully to tug his pants down, Mick took in the prominent hip bones and his shrunken waist line. He made a vow to get some more food into him today, even if he had to tape his mouth shut afterwards. God, he couldn't wait to get Joey home and to a hospital.

Lifting Joey was like lifting fragile china. Mick hoped he wouldn't crack and break, leaving dust and bits scattered around the bathroom. The water level in the bath barely rose as he settled Joey, making sure he wasn't going to sink. Figuring that the bath was big enough for two, Mick quickly shed his own clothes and stepped into the bath behind the smaller man. Joey lay his head against Mick's chest once he'd lay down, and closed his eyes. Mick's arms automatically took their usual position around Joey, who gripped Mick's hands with his own. 

Pressing his head to Joey's, Mick sighed. "What am I gonna do with you?" he said, half joking and half serious. Joey giggled. Mick smiled at the sound; it had been a while since he had heard it. Realising he'd better get Joey bathed and back into bed before he got cold, Mick grabbed the cloth and body wash. Squirting a decent amount on the fabric, he rubbed it in and carefully started to glide the cloth over Joey's skin. Tenderly, he washed the sweat and pain of the last day from Joey, wishing the fever and nausea could be sucked down the drain with the bubbles. 

Down his arms, over his chest, across his stomach, Mick ran the washcloth. Joey lay nearly sleeping, his eyes closed and body relaxed. Mick was loathe to disturb him as he finished bathing him, but he really needed Joey to sit up if he wanted his hair washed. Knowing how much Joey hated having greasy hair, Mick decided to bite the bullet and see if he could sit up. Which he did, reluctantly stirring, but happy to have Mick continue his affection. This time, Mick was saved the annoyance of hunting for Joey's shampoo in his messy suitcase by the presence of Pantene on the shelf; apparently, this hotel was a bit more upmarket, and Joey was satisfied. 

Lathering the shampoo, Mick made sure Joey kept his eyes shut. He loved Joey's hair; it was the smaller man's pride and joy and he took care of it. Even if it meant draining the bus' water supply and spending more time in the bathroom than all of the other guys combined. Mick slowly combed his fingers through the black hair, careful not to pull or jerk any strands. Confident all the knots were out, he rinsed Joey's hair with the shower head and squeezed out the excess water. 

Joey promptly lay back against him and dozed off, and Mick spent the next few minutes awkwardly trying to wash himself. He couldn't reach a few parts, but figured sitting in foamy bath water for so long had to count for something, and pulled the plug. He sat with Joey while the water swirled and eddied around them, finding its way down the pipes. The slurping, sucking noises of the drain didn't rouse Joey, and even after the water had all but disappeared and only a few stubborn patches of foam remained, Mick sat still with him.

He reached out for a towel on the rail, and pulled it over Joey. Mick dried the both of them off as carefully as he could while they were still in the tub, and then leaving the towel draped over Joey, picked him up as best as he could in the confined space and stepped out. Ignoring the water dripping down his legs and the puddles forming around his feet from the patches he missed, Mick carried on into the bedroom. Joey woke up as he was laid on the bed, and watched as Mick dried him off completely. 

Mick rubbed the towel under Joey's left leg, and smiled at the smaller man as he squirmed slightly on the bed. "Hey you... keep still," he murmured, running a hand up Joey's other leg to his hip. His thumb stroked the soft skin and Joey stopped moving, his hair asunder on the pillow. 

"You feel alright?" Mick asked quietly, continuing to towel his skin. Joey nodded, one of his hands at his mouth. 

His legs dry, Mick crawled up beside Joey, and slid a hand under his hip. Easing him over slightly, Mick dried his back and ass, and flicked his black hair over his shoulder. With a small press on his chest, Mick lay Joey back down. His hand went to Joey's neck, and as he caressed his skin, the drummer closed his eyes and pursed his lips, swallowing hard. Mick discarded the towel and straddled Joey, leaning down to kiss his jaw. He felt Joey's mouth open in a gasp, and captured it with his own. 

Feeling his breath shorten, and his pulse quicken, Mick fought the urge to do what his body wanted, remembering what happened last time. Instead, he pulled away, leaving Joey confused. "I can't. I don't want to hurt you," Mick whispered, brushing Joey's hair over his ears. The drummer nodded, but Mick could see the disappointment in his eyes. He leaned down for another kiss, but knew it wasn't enough, for either of them.

"I want to get you something to eat," Mick said, his hand on Joey's stomach. "You up for food?" 

"Yeah. I suppose." Joey's eyes were beginning to droop now, and Mick was glad he had stopped when he did. He brought the covers up around Joey, making sure he was warm and comfortable, and reached for the phone.


	10. I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy)

Even after the food had arrived, Mick let Joey sleep on. He couldn't bring himself to wake him up, and he enjoyed watching him sleep. Joey was curled up on his side, impossibly small. Mick smoothed the blankets over him, and checked his forehead. It was still hot, but not as hot as he had been. It was his skin that worried Mick, it felt quite clammy and sweaty.

Reluctantly, he patted Joey's shoulder, trying to encourage him out of sleep. Joey tossed his head to the side and back again, not opening his eyes. He muttered something that Mick didn't catch, and tried to go back to sleep. Mick hated doing this, but he knew he really had to make Joey eat something. 

“Joey? You need to wake up,” he said sympathetically. 

Joey slowly opened his eyes, and sighed. He was struggling to keep them open, and it was only Mick trying to help him sit up that stopped him from falling back into a doze. Mick fluffed up the pillows and Joey lay back against them, grateful for the support. 

“Here,” Mick said, and Joey found a cup of water being pressed to his lips. He drunk thirstily, and drained the cup. 

Mick smiled, and carefully wiped a drip of water running down Joey's chin with his finger. He sat the glass back down on the nightstand, and reached for a plate of food. Joey's face seemed to fall as the food was put before him, and Mick knew he didn't want to start throwing up again. With his other hand, he cupped Joey's chin. 

“You need to eat.” Joey looked up at him, anxiety written in his eyes. Mick scooped up a forkful of the macaroni cheese, and lifted it to Joey's mouth. He closed his eyes and turned away, trying to avoid eating. Mick felt awful pressuring him like this, but knew he had to. With his hand back on Joey's chin, he gently tilted his head back again. 

This time, Joey acquiesced, opening his mouth slowly. He chewed the food sluggishly, and swallowed with a grimace. He made it through half of the plate before refusing again. He shook his head at Mick, who put the fork and plate back on the tray. Mick helped him lay down again, settling the pillows for him and tucking the blankets around him. Joey curled up, desperate to go back to sleep before his stomach decided to take offence at the food. Mick stroked his back, and urged him to relax, and slowly Joey began to feel sleepy again. The last thing he felt before he succumbed was a soft, sweet kiss on his forehead.

*

Mick dozed off for an hour as well, one hand draped over Joey. He was woken at 4.30pm by a call from Cory. Glad that this was the last show for a while, and that soon he would be able to concentrate on getting Joey better, Mick packed his stuff up and put the few things of Joey's that were out back into his suitcase. 

A knock on the door, and Mick knew someone was here to help him. He thrust the suitcases at Paul with a “thanks”, and the bassist headed down to the bus. Trying hard not to wake Joey, Mick picked him up carefully. 

He got a few odd looks carrying Joey through the lobby, but ignored the stares. The bus was parked right out front, and Mick carried straight up to their couch. Chris was sitting up in the living room, and waited patiently for recognition of his presence while Mick settled Joey down. He passed Mick a blanket, and watched as the bigger man gently covered the sleeping drummer.

He raised his eyebrows at Mick in a question as they looked at each other. “He seems a bit better. Really tired though. Got some food down him. Hope it stays there,” Mick said gruffly, sitting down on the table. 

“I guess you just wanna get him home, huh?” Chris asked sympathetically. 

Mick nodded. “All this going places... it wakes him up. Disturbs him.” He sighed, and lay his heads in his hands. 

Chris could see the exhaustion on his face and the worry in his voice. If he wasn't careful, Mick would get sick soon as well, and that really wouldn't be good. At least they would be heading home soon, and Mick could start to relax as Joey could be taken care of properly. That reminded him. 

“Cory tried to get us a flight back to Des Moines, but there's nothing from here until Wednesday. So we're just gonna drive. Probably better than getting Joey on a plane anyway.”

“We leaving straight after the gig?” Mick asked.

“Yeah. We'll be home by morning. At least we aren't in fucking Florida or someplace like that.”

Mick nodded. He started to feel relieved, and then checked himself. They still had to get home first, and then he could start to feel better. But he knew he wouldn't be back to normal until Joey was. As if to check he was still there, Mick reached out a hand to Joey, and brushed the hair falling down his forehead back over his ears. 

Chris watched them silently, not wanting to disturb the exchange. Mick seemed to have forgotten he was there, and so Chris crept away slowly. It wasn't until several minutes had passed that Mick remembered the percussionist, and turned to acknowledge him. But he was gone.


	11. The Face of God

Much to his distress, Mick had to leave Joey sleeping on the couch as they played. It was the right thing to do, but as he sat getting ready in the dressing room, he felt as though he'd left a part of him on the bus. He was short and flippant with the others, and they left him to himself, figuring he was missing Joey.

He paced the dressing room, trying to suppress the desire to run back to the bus, until Shawn stood up suddenly and pressed his arms to his shoulders. “Mick. Sit down. He'll be ok. If he's not, someone will come get you. I promise.” 

Mick felt like punching the percussionist, and his hands tightened into fists. Shawn just didn't understand what he was going through right now. It was the first time he'd really been separated from Joey in 3 days. Even last night, Joey was just backstage. But today, he was too far away. 

Jim saw his clenched fists, and stood up to back Shawn up. “He's right, Mick. I know it's hard, we all do. It's one show Mick, and then we'll be on our way home. We'll get Joey better. But for now, we just have to get through this gig. We need you, and you need to concentrate. There are thousands of kids out there who have been dying to see us. Don't screw it up for them.”

Mick felt his hands relax. He knew they were right, and he knew he had to pull through for everyone else. “You do promise me, that if anything happens with Joey, ANYTHING, I will be allowed to go to him? Even if it's the middle of a song? Cos if I find out he's been sick, or in pain, and no-one's told me, I will fucking kill someone. Promise me that, and I will promise to play, no matter how much I wish I didn't have to.” The threat and veiled anger in Mick's words chilled the band.

Shawn sighed. “I promise. I will tell the medic to send someone for you if there's something wrong with Joey. He's in good hands, Mick. They'll know what to do.” With that, he squeezed Mick's shoulder and gave him a quick smile, before walking back to his place. The others went back to their preparations, and Mick sat down. He bit his lip, and tried not to think of Joey. In a way, that made him feel worse. Knowing that he was trying to deliberately not think of Joey? It was like he was betraying him, and it cut him to the bone. 

*

The vast sea of fans spread off into the darkness. They were all screaming, all singing along, and for a while Mick lost himself in the music. He closed his eyes and just played, knowing each song brought him closer to the end. Looking back afterwards, he remembered little of the time he played - just the anxiety and anguish that clawed at him. Every time he saw someone moving behind him, he tensed, waiting for the tap on the shoulder that would tell him instantly that Joey was in trouble. 

It came during the last minutes of 'Left Behind'. 

There was only two songs left in the gig when Mick stopped playing, leaving the others in the lurch. He was gone quickly, his heart thumping in his chest and breath catching in his throat. Some sort of fuzziness was descending on him, and he could hardly hear anything, just muffled shouting and the dim noise of a confused crowd. 

He pulled his mask off roughly and threw it over his shoulder. Goddamn, why was it taking him forever to get to the bus? He was sure it wasn't this far from the bus before, but now, it seemed like a never-ending journey, like he was walking but going nowhere. 

As he started to curse in frustration, the sky suddenly appeared above him and he was outside. The bus was ablaze in light, and he started to run. He could see people inside, moving around. The door was open, and he thundered inside. He could hear something, someone crying and gasping in distress. It was Joey. 

Taking the stairs as quickly as he could, he burst into the living room. Joey was writhing in agony on the couch, a medic desperately trying to hold him down. Another was struggling to insert an IV, but Mick ignored both as he crossed the room quickly to Joey's side.

He tugged Joey from the medic on the couch, who quickly relinquished his grip. Holding Joey tightly, Mick tried to comfort him, but nothing he could do seemed to help. 

“I need to get a line in. Can you get his arm still?” the medic asked.

Mick tried to still Joey's arm, and was forced to tighten his grip. He felt like crying as Joey screamed, fighting Mick's hold. “Joey! It’s ok! Relax!” Mick whispered in his ear, but Joey was in so much pain he couldn't hear.

The other medic came up to help, and so did someone else who Mick hadn't seen when he was coming onto the bus in his hurry. Together, they found a vein and inserted the catheter. Conversing, the medics quickly agreed on the right course of medication to give to Joey, and it appeared several moments later in a syringe. Mick tightened his grip again as one of the medics injected through the catheter, and then attached a bag of saline. 

Joey's attack seemed to have gotten worse through those moments, and Mick hoped it wasn't because of the way he was holding him so tight. There was sweat rolling off his skin and his legs were thrashing on the couch. His eyes were shut, but they couldn't stop the flood of tears that poured down his cheeks. Mick hoped the medication would work quickly. 

Mick heard pounding feet on the stairs, and looked up to see Shawn and Corey enter the room. They stopped still at the sight and Mick could see the despair on their faces. Joey screamed again and Corey flinched. Shawn knew there was nothing they could do, and motioned Corey to head downstairs again, out of the way. Mick could hear voices and he assumed the rest of the band was down there too. 

Joey's eyes sprung open and he gasped, struggling to breathe. An oxygen mask appeared and was quickly clamped on his mouth. Mick held it on, now ignoring his own tears that blurred his vision. This was so much worse than last time. Why the fuck had he left him? Why had he let himself be talked into this by the others? He felt no anger, only incredible remorse. 

Slowly, almost imperceptively, Joey decreased his movement, and he stopped writhing. His legs still moved about, alternating between trying to ease the pain in his stomach by raising his knees to his chest, and then trying to find a comfortable position, stretching them out. A medic held them still, and Joey arched his back in response. He was whimpering now, distressed and tormented. 

“Joey, Joey it's ok. It's ok, I promise, I promise everything will be ok. Relax, please, just relax,” Mick whispered desperately in his ear. “Joey, it's ok, I swear.”  
He brought a hand up to brush the wet hair out of Joey's face, and he stroked his hair over and over, rocking him in his arms. 

“It's ok, it's ok. You're gonna be ok,” Mick continued softly, trying to reassure himself at the same time he was trying to comfort Joey. The medication seemed to be seemed to be working, and soon Joey lay still in his arms. Mick could see he was clenching his teeth, and felt fingernails digging into his flesh, and wondered if he was still in pain. 

“Is he hurting?” he asked the medic, who nodded.

“Most likely. The dose I gave him should help him feel better, but I don't have the right medicine to treat this properly.”

Mick remembered something. “Something like this happened the other day, only not as bad. He threw up afterwards. Is he going to throw up again?” 

One of the medics stirred at this. He knelt down by the couch. “Joey? How are you feeling?”

Squirming, Joey didn't respond.  
“Joey? Do you feel sick?” Mick asked. 

Joey's eyes opened slightly, and he stared up at Mick. The guitarist recognised the look on his face. 

“Yeah, he's gonna be sick!” Mick blurted. He took the mask off Joey's face, and one of the medics was quick-thinking enough to reach for the bin, just in time. Over and over again Joey vomited, Mick holding him close. Like last time, the gagging was never-ending, and one of the medics scrounged through their kit for medication. Mick could feel Joey was totally exhausted, and each time his stomach heaved he was closer to giving up. Mick willed him on silently, not trusting his voice to speak. 

Something was injected into the saline line, and Mick prayed it would work promptly. One of his hands was rubbing Joey's stomach and he could feel the spasm and contraction of his muscles. There was nothing left to throw up now, but Joey continued to retch, moaning his discomfort. Then the medication seemed to work and he was able to ease himself back onto Mick, sobbing. 

He was absolutely drenched in sweat, and Mick could feel him shivering and shaking. A medic laid two blankets over him, and tried to get him to drink. Joey refused to open his mouth, obviously still upset. Mick took the water bottle, and gently pulled Joey up slightly. “Joey? Can you drink a little for me? Please?” Mick asked quietly. 

He tried the bottle again, and Joey opened his mouth a little. Mick praised him as he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, and then eased off as Joey indicated he'd had enough. He replaced the bottle with the oxygen mask. Joey's trembling didn't seem to be lessening, and Mick was worried. 

“He's shaking,” he said to the medics. 

“He'll do that for a while. It's the shock,” one of the medics replied. 

“Will he be ok?” Mick asked.

The medic sighed. “Ideally, he should be in hospital. We can take him now.”

“Which hospital?” Mick questioned.

“KU Med Center is closest.”

“What about Des Moines? It's our home. We were going to go back tomorrow.”

The medic shook his head. “It's too far for him to travel now. Maybe stabilise him at KU Med Center and then you can think about getting him home. But I wouldn't risk it now.” 

Mick nodded. He cradled Joey, now trying to doze, the sweat drying on his skin. “Can we take him?” he asked. 

“I'll call an ambulance. We'll have him there within the hour.” The medic stood up, and headed out to make the call. The other medic took Joey's temperature, and started to clear up their equipment. 

The room suddenly felt very small. Mick felt stifled, desperate for fresh air. The shock of what had happened was washing over him now, and as much as he didn't want to leave Joey, he needed to move. Carefully laying Joey down on the couch, Mick stood up, wobbling slightly. 

“Look after him?” Mick half asked, half stated to the medic on his rush out of the room.

The stairs seemed to make it worse, and he was glad when he was down. He vaguely saw the others standing and sitting around in silence, but ignored them. He passed Craig standing by the door as he exited. His head spinning, he suddenly stopped, hands on knees. Nausea cramped him, and he vomited onto the grass.

He heaved several times, and spat. Someone came up behind him and offered a water bottle, which Mick took gratefully. He washed his mouth out before gulping down a few mouthfuls, and squirted his face. The cold water seemed to wake him up, and his vision cleared. Whoever it was led him away and sat him down. Mick pulled his knees to his chest, and pressed his hands to his temple. He didn't want to think about what just happened, but it was consuming him. 

Chris knelt down in front of him. “Mick?” he asked softly. “Is he ok?”

Mick looked up. They were all there, all with white faces and standing silent. Corey and Shawn had obviously told them what had happened. 

“Yeah. No. Yeah. Ummm.... They're gonna take him to hospital. So I dunno. He's sleeping. He got so bad.....” Mick shook his head and bit his lip. 

He squirted his face again in an effort to cool his heated cheeks. As suddenly as the desire to be outside had come over him, the desire to be back with Joey was upon him. He didn't want to stay here and answer a million questions. Fumbling, he stood up, and pushed through the group and back onto the bus.


	12. Love's Lies Cruel

The ambulance pulled up 15 minutes later, the multi-coloured lights bouncing around the inside of the bus. Joey was nearly catatonic, unconscious on the couch. He was still quivering slightly, and his skin was unnaturally warm to the touch. 

After the paramedics had given him the all-clear to be moved, Mick picked him up carefully. A medic trailed him, holding up the saline bag, as they made their way down to the ambulance outside. There was a crowd gathering, and despite security's attempts to keep them clear, they were like flies to the dramatic lights. It was a mixture of roadies, members of other bands, stage and venue crew and various hangers-on, and fans that had bypassed security. 

Shawn was sitting on the ground, his head in his hands. He looked up as Mick came out, staring at the bundle in his arms. Sid looked as though he had been crying; Craig still had an arm around his shoulders. Paul and Chris stopped in mid-conversation, and Jim stood up from where he had been sitting. Corey snapped his phone shut and came over. 

They all stood close as Mick lay Joey onto the stretcher that had been pulled out of the ambulance. The paramedics bustled around the drummer for several minutes, preventing Mick from having any contact with Joey. Shawn approached him and slid an arm around his shoulders, squeezing. He didn't say anything, for which Mick was grateful – he didn't think he could talk at this moment. 

All he could do was watch as Joey was prepared for the trip to the hospital. He had no idea what he was looking at, only that they must have thought it might happen again if they were doing all that to him. Mick tried not to think about that, and instead concentrated on the fact that they were finally getting Joey some decent treatment, something he should have done days ago. It ate away at him that he hadn't been there for Joey tonight, right when he'd needed him the most. 

Folding his arms, he tried to look strong and in control, but the reality was that Shawn was now propping him up. He wished he could sit down. He suddenly felt incredibly tired. 

Suddenly, Joey was ready to go, and the stretcher was lifted into the ambulance and snapped into place. Mick climbed in the back with a paramedic, his legs so wobbly he thought he might not make it for a second. Sitting at the head of the stretcher, he stroked Joey's hair off his face and felt slightly reassured by the peaceful look he had.

”Um, how long will this take?” Mick asked the paramedic, trying not to let his voice tremble or croak.

”Not long,” the man replied, with a sympathetic look on his face. “We'll have him there before you know it.”

Mick nodded, continuing to soothe Joey's face. The starting of the engine made the ambulance tremble, and as they passed out of the bus park Mick could see the reflection of the flashing blue and red lights in the windows of the stationery buses. He took Joey's tiny hand and squeezed it gently. A part of him wanted Joey to squeeze back, but Mick knew that he was so out of it that would be impossible. 

The journey to the hospital seemed to be never-ending. Every time they slowed down, Mick hoped they were finally there, but his hopes were dashed every time they drove away from the traffic lights. At one point, Joey started squirming, uncomfortable, and Mick reluctantly moved away to let the paramedic tend to him. Once he was back at his side, Mick took hold of Joey's hand again. 

“How much longer?” he asked the medic, just wanting to be there already.

“A couple of minutes. It's just up the road.” 

_Thank god,_ Mick thought. He just wanted to get Joey settled and comfortable. Was that too much to ask? Leaning over Joey, he wanted to tell him they would be there soon and everything would be alright. But he knew it was pointless – Joey was drugged up to his eyeballs, and the medic probably already thought they were strange enough. 

So he sat and clung to Joey's hand, and when the ambulance slowed and turned into the hospital, sagged his shoulders in relief. They backed up to the bay, and the doors were opened. The stretcher was carefully lowered to the ground, and rolled through the emergency doors into the hospital. 

To his panic and anger, he was told he could go no further. There was a room he could wait in, the nurse told him patiently, but Mick was blinded by the fact he had to leave Joey yet again.

“Why can't I go with him?” he asked, anxiety tinging his voice. 

“I'm sorry, but only patients and doctors are allowed into the diagnostic rooms. We'll get you when he's transferred to a room.” With that, the nurse gave him a look that told him she wasn't to be moved, and with one last glance at the small figure being wheeled away on the stretcher, Mick trudged off to the waiting room.

*

He couldn't sit still. Every time he tried, his legs would start to twitch, and he would have to stand up to relieve the annoyance. Standing proved too much as well. He walked to allow an outlet for the myriad of thoughts that were overflowing his head. Someone brought him coffee, and he drank it without noticing it was white – he _never_ drank white coffee. Every time someone in a uniform walked through the room, he would bug them for information. And each time he was told that they didn't know yet, but someone would tell him when they did. 

He was on his 50th circuit of the room when a familiar figure stepped in. It was Shawn. 

“Hey Mick.”

The guitarist didn't acknowledge him. He had hoped that this time it was a doctor with some answers, and once again he was disappointed. 

“Mick,” Shawn spoke again. “Sit down. You'll wear out your shoes.”

Mick glared at him. What a stupid thing to say at a time like this.

Shawn sighed. He knew there was no use trying to talk to Mick when he was like this. He was the one who had been nominated to come down here – they'd only let one of them come down into the emergency waiting room, all the others had to wait in the usual waiting area – and he wondered why he'd bothered. Then, he checked himself. Mick was probably extremely worried and anxious, and he shouldn't be annoyed at him for that. Shawn knew what this was like, his wife had spent half her life in the hospital. He had covered many a circuit of a hospital waiting room himself. He, of all people, should be able to sympathise with Mick.   
So he approached the guitarist, and with a hand on his shoulder, stopped him. 

“Mick,” he said, this time with a tone that made the other man raise his hand and look at him. “Joey is in good hands. They're gonna find out what's wrong, and they're gonna help him. There's no better place he can be right now, I promise. You'll be back beside him soon.”

Mick listened to him, and nodded silently. He let Shawn lead him over to the chairs, and sat down heavily. He lent his head against the hard wall behind him, and sighed, closing his eyes. 

Mick had never been one for religion. He'd thought it was all a load of crap, that followers were like sheep, heeding a deity that didn't exist. That praying was a waste of time, and so was church. But right now, Mick thought he understood. If he was a Christian, he'd be on his knees, praying like the Rapture was approaching. Instead, he settled for a brief, desperate invocation in his head. _God, if you can hear me -_ it was at this point that Mick started to feel stupid - _please, please look after Joey. He doesn't deserve this!_

Opening his eyes, Mick didn't feel like anything had changed. Shawn still sat next to him, and apart from them, the room was still empty, no doctor with news of a miracle. The clock on the wall was ticking away as usual, as slow as it could possibly go. Mick thought he'd been in that room for a lot longer than the time on that clock dictated. He felt his heart pumping in his chest, a lot like the sensation he got when he was preparing to go on show. But the circumstances couldn't be any different; this was so much more important, so much bigger than that, that it made show time seem like an inconsequential act of nothing. 

He listened as hard as he could for the tap-tap of shoes approaching the room, and every time he heard that sound his heart stopped and his stomach quivered. Each time though, he was let down, as the shoes' owner passed through. He just wanted to know how Joey was, that they were looking after him and he hadn't woken up, wondering why Mick had abandoned him again. He wanted to know if they had found out what it was, why Joey was so sick. And if they could fix him, so Mick could take him home and get him better. His head and his heart were so full, he felt like he was drowning. 

He didn't know what it was that was different about the sound that this pair of shoes made. But somehow, Mick knew that the person about to enter the room had news for him. And when the nurse stopped in front of him, he stood up so quickly he was dizzy. Shawn stood up too, and Mick was vaguely aware that a hand was gripping his shoulder. 

“How is he?” Mick asked, desperate for an answer.

The nurse smiled. “He's sleeping. You can see him if you like.”

Mick nearly collapsed in relief. “Do you know what's wrong?” he choked out.

The nurse shook her head. “We're still waiting for some tests that will take another couple of hours. For now, he's comfortable.”

Mick nodded his head roughly, and followed as if in a haze when the nurse turned to lead him to Joey's room. There was a tug on his shoulder. 

“Mick? I'm gonna wait here, ok?” Shawn said quietly. 

Mick smiled at him wanly, grateful that Shawn knew he just wanted to be alone with Joey. And he knew that Shawn would make sure they weren't disturbed by the others for a while. As harsh as that might have been, Mick was no mood for the others crowding their space right now.

The walls passed by in a blur of white as Mick trailed the nurse down the corridors. He lost track of the turns they made and Mick knew he'd never find his way back to the waiting room. The hospital seemed never-ending, like some vicious maze that befuddled and confused its prey. Finally, the nurse began to slow her pace and entered a private room.

It was dark inside, the only illumination coming from a light fixture above the hospital bed that dominated the room. On it, Joey lay, impossibly small and pale. His dark hair was messed around on the pillow, and he appeared deeply asleep. They had dressed him in one of those ugly gowns, and evidently, they didn't have any small enough for Joey. The horrid material seemed to swim on him, and Mick wanted to take it off and hurl it through a window. It symbolised something that scared Mick, that this was what it had come to. He had wanted Joey to be admitted to hospital, but now that it had come to be, the realisation that there really was something wrong with Joey hit him hard. 

He sat in the solitary chair that stood next to the bed. He ignored the nurse as she checked on a machine that was beeping away next to the bed. He didn't know what it was, but the fact that Joey was hooked up to it unnerved Mick. _Was it that bad?_ Reaching out a shaky hand to Joey's face, Mick soothed the hair that encroached his skin. There was some sort of tube running into Joey's nose, and Mick stared at it in confusion.

“It's a feeding tube.” Mick looked up. The nurse was standing on the other side of Joey, having finished her tests. “This pump” - she pointed to a small machine that sat by the bed - “makes sure that he's receiving the right amount of nutrients through the tube. It'll help him get stronger. This one,” she continued, her hand on the machine that Mick was looking at before, “is a cardiac monitor. It measures his heart rate, and it'll tell us in the nurse station if he's under stress.”

“Like those attacks he's been having?” Mick questioned.

She nodded her head. “During them, his heart rate will rise. The monitor will start beeping and we'll be able to administer medicine into his IV to control it.” The nurse smiled at him. “If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask. And if you need us, just press this button, and we'll come as quickly as she can.” She showed Mick the bed controller that would alert the nurse station. “Someone will be in soon to change his saline bag. As soon as we know the results of his tests, a doctor will be in to explain it to you.” She smiled reassuringly, and Mick tried to smile back. She turned to head out the door, and Mick thought of something

“Excuse me?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him. “Yes?”

Mick swallowed. “I – we – have friends waiting outside. Are you able to tell them he's ok? They're the weird guys.” 

The nurse smiled again. “Of course. I'll let them know.”

And with that, Mick was finally left alone with Joey. He was as still on the chair as he had been fidgety in the waiting room. His hands were pressed between his knees, and he stared at Joey as he lay on the bed. Slowly, cautiously, as if the little drummer would fall apart when he was touched, Mick extended his hand. His fingers landed on Joey's warm skin, and Mick let his hand slide up his arm, and down again to hold the little hand within his own. His thumb stroked the back of Joey's hand tenderly. 

For what seemed like hours, Mick kept a vigil over Joey as he slept. A nurse came in to change his IV bag, as promised, but they had no other visitors. The relief that Mick had felt when the nurse appeared to take him to Joey was disappearing, and being replaced with that familiar anxiety. Where was the doctor? Had they figured out what was wrong yet? What if it was something really bad? Maybe that was why it taking so long? 

Mick told himself to stop thinking so negatively, but he couldn't help it. As long as he didn't know what was wrong, his mind was free to create all sorts of horrible scenarios. He desperately hoped it was something simple, but there was nothing simple about the seizure Joey had had on the bus. Mick knew nothing about illnesses and how the human body worked, but he was sure attacks like that weren't good. Maybe he should have taken Joey straight to the hospital after that first attack. What if Joey had just gotten sicker because of it? And Mick was to blame, because he hasn't gotten help for him, just naively thought he could fix Joey? 

Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. He sat numbly on the chair, not moving. He stared at Joey, still asleep, and wondered what he could have/should have done to make it better. He had seen what was happening, watched Joey throw up so many times, and counted the pounds he lost as a result. He held him through the seizures and soothed him when he cried because of the pain. And he never phoned a doctor, or insisted on getting him to a hospital. And he'd even made him worse by saying 'yes' to Joey's request for sex, when he should have said 'no'. But he couldn't keep his cock in his pants, not when it involved Joey. 

And now, sitting here, holding Joey's hand as he lay unconscious on a hospital bed, Mick felt like he was sinking into shame. Everything seemed to hinge on what the doctors had to say. If Mick had caused irreparable damage by not getting Joey help when he needed it, he would never forgive himself. 

He was still wading through the depressing thoughts that clouded his head when footsteps echoed down the corridor. It was so late at night that the footsteps stood out for their appearance. Mick eased back into the chair. Could it be that this was finally the doctor? The footsteps stopped outside the door, as if the person who generated the noise was checking the name on the card at the entrance to the room. 

A head poked around the frame. “Jordison?” It was the doctor.


	13. Dark Secret Love

Mick stood up as the doctor entered the room. He was clutching a folder under his arm, which he laid on the table next to the bed.

“How is he? Woken up yet?” the doctor asked. 

Mick stuttered. “Umm, no, no not yet. Should he have?” Now he was worried.

The doctor smiled and shook his head. “It's ok. He's probably exhausted. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept right through to the morning. He's got a lot of sedative in him.”

The doctor checked the cardiac monitor, pronounced it satisfactory (what, exactly, Mick wasn't sure) and made sure there was enough saline in his IV. Mick hated to be rude, but he was getting anxious. Did he know what was wrong, or what? The doctor seemed to sense his impatience. 

“We have his test results back. Joey has gastritis. It's the inflammation of the stomach. Don't worry. It's not serious, it's quite a common complaint. That's what's been causing his vomiting. Unfortunately, in his case, the vomiting has led to severe dehydration, which caused the fever and seizures.”

“Is he going to be ok?” Mick asked. 

“He'll need to be on fluids for at least the next 24 hours. If his seizures occur again, we may have to run some more tests. He's lost a lot of weight, which is something that concerns us. We'll like to keep him here for the next few days.”

Mick nodded slowly as he digested the information. He felt relieved that it was nothing permanent, but at the same time – dehydration? He knew he should have done more to make Joey drink. 

“Will he stop throwing up now?”

“We've put him on antiemetics, which is a medication that should stop the nausea and vomiting. In a few days, we'll wean him off it, and see how he goes.”

“And if he starts throwing up again?” Mick wondered. 

“Then more tests, and different medication. He's very weak, so we don't want to weaken his system any more by giving him anything too strong.”

Mick gripped Joey's hand. “So, he really will be ok?”  
The doctor smiled. “Of course. Once he's had some time to rebuild his strength, he'll be as good as new. Now he's on fluids, the dehydration should be taken care of. In a week, he'll be up and about. Just make sure he doesn't overexert himself.” 

Mick chuckled. “That could be a problem.” 

“He's a drummer, right?” the doctor questioned. 

“Yeah. He's pretty energetic.” Mick smiled, and then let it fade. “Usually, anyway.”

“He'll be back bouncing off the walls before you know it,” the doctor said sympathetically. “Even if it doesn't seem like it now. His body just needs a chance to repair itself.”

He picked up his folder, and tucked it back under his arm. “You're welcome to stay the night. I apologise for the guest accommodation though, it's pretty uncomfortable. If you have any problems, let a nurse know. There's a station just down the end of this corridor. Any emergencies, for instance if he's in pain or has a seizure, press the call button. I'll be back to check on him again in the morning.” 

“Thank you,” Mick said sincerely. 

The doctor smiled and nodded. “No problem. We'll fix him, I promise.” With that, he exited the room. 

Mick slumped back in his chair, and ran his hands through his hair. _Fuck!_ He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't realised just how much this all had been weighing him down until it was lifted. Joey was going to be OK. His shoulders started to shake, and he gripped his hands together to try and stop the trembling. He closed his eyes tight and swallowed the lump in his throat. Forcing himself to calm down, he sat back up and leaned forward so his elbows were resting on the hospital bed. 

He reached out a hand to brush the hair off Joey's face, and slowly stroked his cheek. For a few moments he studied his face, grateful that he was sleeping quietly. The tubes and electrodes were intimidating, but if they were helping Joey, Mick could get used to them. He traced Joey's jaw, and ran his fingers over his lips. He remembered the first time he kissed them, and felt a shiver run up his body. Standing up, he pressed his lips to Joey's forehead.

Mick's stomach was reminding him that he hadn't had anything to eat for a long time. He didn't want to leave Joey, but he looked like he was going to be out for a while. And this time, there were people around to make sure he'd be ok. Kissing Joey's cheek one last time, Mick kept him in his sight until he was out the door. Way to go, genius....

A passing nurse, obviously sympathetic to the very confused look on Mick's face, asked if he was ok. 

“Ummm, well, I'm looking for a waiting room?” he asked.

The nurse smiled. “We have a few waiting rooms... any one in particular?”

“Well, it's where I got put after my boyfriend came here in an ambulance. Does that help?”

Still smiling, the nurse nodded. “How about I take you there? That might be quickest.” 

“Errrr, yeah. Thanks!” Mick replied gratefully. That sounded a lot better than wandering the corridors all night. 

Tagging along behind the nurse, Mick marvelled at her ability to move though the hospital like it was her second home. _Which,_ Mick thought, _it probably was._

Coming to a stop down a corridor Mick didn't remember, the nurse pointed to a set of doors. “There you go,” she said, beaming at him. 

“Thank you!” Mick said thankfully. 

Pushing through the doors as the nurse strode away, Mick hoped that Shawn hadn't given up and gone away. He smiled as he saw the percussionist stretched out in one of the chairs, fast asleep. 

“Shawn?”

A grunt came in reply. Well, that was a start. Poking him in the shoulder, Mick made sure he stayed well clear just in case Shawn woke up swinging. 

“Hmmmpppffff...”

“SHAWN!”

“Ok ok....... what?” Shawn finally awoke. He saw who was prodding him awake, and sat up, all sleepiness gone. “Mick? How is he?”

He could tell from the goofy grin on Mick's face that Joey was going to be alright.

“I take it he's ok?”

Mick nodded. “He's sleeping. He's got this thing... gastritis? But he's on meds and he'll be good to leave in a few days.” 

“Shit man.” Shawn stood up and flung his arms around the startled guitarist.  
“That's fucking awesome!” He hugged Mick, who gave in and patted Shawn's back. 

“Yeah.... god yes.” 

They broke apart, much to Mick's relief. “Where are the others?”

“Main waiting room. Well, they were, when I left them. I assume they're still there. You wanna go check?” Shawn asked. 

“Yeah. And find something to eat.” 

“I concur with that statement,” Shawn dead panned.

Together, they ventured out of the room in search of the waiting room. Fortunately, Shawn seemed to have better navigational skills than Mick, and using the convenient signage, soon steered them to the right place. The boys were all still in there, most of them in various states of sleep apart from Corey, who appeared wide-awake. The singer stood up as soon as he saw them. 

“Well?!” he demanded. “Any news?” He looked back and forth between Shawn and Mick. Shawn knew this was for Mick to answer. 

“Yeah. He's gonna be ok.” 

Corey whooped and started to wake the others. The distraction made him smile and he finally felt himself start to relax. Corey and Shawn were telling the others, and Mick stood by and watched as if in a dream. Sid, who had been curled up on Craig's lap, asleep, sat with a strange grin on his face, while Craig laughed with Jim about something. The effect on everyone was instantaneous. Grim, foreboding moods were lifted and replaced with smiles and laughter; so much had been riding on their shoulders with Joey being sick, and now they felt released. 

Chris came up and slapped Mick on the back in congratulations, snapping him out of his reverie. “How are **you** doing, Mick?” he asked quietly. 

Mick shrugged. “Never been better,” he said, breaking into a huge grin. They laughed together for a few moments, before being interrupted by Paul.

“So, is there any food in this joint? I think this calls for a celebration!”


	14. Resurrection

Mick sat with the others in the cafeteria, eating the place clean. He devoured a hamburger and chips, watching as the others laughed and joked. He didn't feel the need to talk; it seemed everyone else was doing enough for him anyway. He was glad his appetite was back; he'd missed food. 

“Mick?” Someone was trying to get his attention, and he figured that same person had probably been trying for it for a while. 

“Yeah?” he asked, looking around for whoever wanted him. Corey's questioning face hovered into view. He waited as Corey took another mouthful of macaroni cheese. 

“That was flipping scary.”

The blankness of the statement shook Mick. “Yeahhhh..... I saw you two on the bus.”

Corey swallowed, and put down his fork, staring at Mick. “I thought he was dying. Just... the way he was moving.... like he couldn't stop himself....” Corey shuddered, and shook his head. “Fuck man. And you.... you looked so frightened. I've never, ever seen you frightened. I think that scared me most of all. Like you knew something really bad could happen.”

Mick stared into space. Corey's words hit him hard. There haven't been time when Joey was having that seizure to think about himself, but now, Mick was free to think. What if something bad _had_ happened? What if there hadn’t been any medics with him? What if Mick had stayed behind on the bus, just him, and it had happened, and Mick hadn't had any way to get help? What would have happened? He shook his head, and held his eyes. 

“You ok man?” Corey asked, concerned. 

Mick looked up. “Yeah. I am now. Just thinking about what maybe could have happened... if you guys hadn't made me play, and kept a medic with Joey.”

“Fuck. Mick don't think like that. I know, I know I didn't help.... but it's over, Mick. He's going to be alright. Nothing awful happened. Look around.”

Mick did. The grins on everyone's faces brought him back to reality. He smiled tentatively. “What happened after I left the stage?” he asked Corey, now curious.

The singer studied the rest of his macaroni cheese. “I guess, for a few seconds, we thought about playing on. But we couldn't, not without you, and not without thinking about Joey. Me and Shawn, we kinda ran after you, I dunno what the others did, but they followed. Shit man, we just left em there.”

He turned to Jim, next to him. “Dude, what happened after me and Shawn split the stage?”

Jim nearly choked on his burger trying to answer. “We weren't sure what we were doing. Then we decided to follow you. Sid was fucking awesome, he took the mic and told everyone we had an emergency and we were really sorry but we had to stop. I think he wants your job. Anyway, we kinda just left everything where it was and went after you guys.”

“Damn,” Corey said, shaking his head. “It kinda sucks that that had to happen, but Joey comes first. We just wanted to be with you two,” he said, looking at Mick. “We're all brothers. All for one, one for all, right?”

Mick just nodded. This band was fucking amazing. They could fight like tigers for hours on end, but at the end of the day, there was a bond and a love there that couldn't be broken. And Mick was so proud to be a part of it. 

*

The nurse refused to let all of the guys in to see Joey. “It's far too late, and he needs to sleep. Tomorrow, you may see him, if he is well enough. You” - she pointed to Mick - “are allowed to stay with him. ONLY you. No funny ideas.” She gave the guys a stern look as she walked away, and even rebellious Corey didn't fancy being caught in Joey's room by her. 

“I guess it's back to the bus,” Paul sighed. 

“We'll stay around here,” Shawn said, taking charge. “When's visiting hours?” 

Jim pointed out a sign. “11am to 4pm.”

“Fine. We'll be lining up at quarter to eleven. Make sure he's decent, Mick,” Shawn grinned at him. 

Mick saluted their team captain. “Aye aye Sir!” Mick turned to head back to Joey's room. 

“Hey, Mick!” Sid called. “Want anything out of the bus?” 

“Yeah, I do!”

“What? We'll bring it up. If we can get it past Madam there.” Shawn jerked his thumb in the direction the nurse had gone. 

Mick smiled. “Joey's bag, and mine. And some pillows and a blanket... I don't fancy the hospital ones. Thanks.”

Now, it was Sid who saluted Mick. “Back before you know it!”

*

Mick spent an uncomfortable night hunched over in a plastic chair. He thought about curling up on the bed next to Joey, but was worried he'd pull some of the tubes out. And if that nurse came in... well, that wasn't worth thinking about. He'd slept ok, all things considered, but his back didn't appreciate it. He didn't think he'd ever say it, but it was worse than the bunks in the bus. 

Mick woke up at first rounds. A nurse was bent over Joey, checking his temperature when he opened his eyes. She smiled at him. “How's your back?”

Mick groaned, as he tried to shift in the chair. “I think I might need a doctor.” 

She grinned. “I'll see what I can do about getting a spare bed in here. I think we might have some folding beds stored somewhere. We'll find something.”

“Thank you! I don't think I'll ever walk the same again.” They laughed together for a few moments. 

“How is he?” Mick asked. 

“Still running a bit of a temperature. We'll keep an eye on it. He might have a secondary infection. Has he woken up at all?”

Mick shook his head. His sleep had been punctured by his mind waking him up 'just in case', but Joey hadn't stirred. 

“Shouldn't he have woken up by now?” he asked, concerned. 

The nurse pursed her lips. “He's probably very tired. We may try and wake him later on. If you want, give it a go. Just let us know if he does wake.” 

Mick nodded, and she smiled before leaving for the next room. 

He edged his chair closer to the bed. Joey had turned over sometime in the night, and now he faced Mick. He looked – dare he say it? - nearly angelic in his sleep. He lay his hand on Joey's head, sweeping his hair back. Carefully, he leaned down to kiss Joey's ear. 

“Joey... you gotta wake up soon, okay? I'm dying to see you,” he whispered, before kissing Joey again. 

Despite his desire to have a conscious Joey, Mick couldn't bear to wake him up. _A few more hours,_ he thought to himself. He tried to find a comfortable position on the chair, but it was fruitless. Slowly, in case he broke from stiffness, Mick eased himself out of the chair. His first few steps were hunched over, and not for the first time, cursed hospital chairs. He walked around the room for a little bit, until he felt normal. The adjoining bathroom came in handy, and then he decided to venture out in search of coffee. 

Hoping like hell he wouldn't get lost and need to ask that nurse for directions, Mick took note of the number on the door. He had seen a coffee machine on the way back from the cafeteria, and headed in what he thought was the right direction. To his surprise, he managed to find it first try. Grabbing a few cups, since they were quite small, he took off in search of Joey's room. Only getting lost once, he congratulated himself when he made it back inside. He was getting better at this. By the time Joey would be able to check out, he might have even figured out where the entrance was. 

Joey was still asleep. Setting the coffee down on the table, Mick reluctantly took his seat again, but not before glaring at it. He sat for a while and sipped at his coffee, getting over the mediocre taste. He wondered about waving a cup under Joey's nose – he was fond of coffee – but that would mean another trip to the vending machine after Joey drunk all of it. And he wasn't sure coffee was on the doctor's list of approved food and drink. 

Finishing the cups he brought over, Mick tried to throw them in the bin. The first two went in, but the third missed. Swearing, and decidedly annoyed at having to get up again, Mick went over to pick it up. The door swung open before he reached it. It was the same doctor who had seen Joey last night. Embarrassed, Mick quickly rescued the cup and tossed it in the bin. 

“How's he doing?” the doctor asked, ignoring Mick's rubbish on the floor. 

“Um.” _Wasn't the nurse supposed to talk to the doctor, and all that?_ “He hasn't woken up. The nurse said something about a temperature.”

“Ah yes.” The doctor nodded his head, and consulted his notes. “The two could be related. There might be something else going on. Have you actually tried to wake him up?” 

“No. Do you want me to try?”

“Yes, please. He'd probably rather wake up to you than me. And you might be nicer.” 

Mick chuckled. He sat down on the bed next to Joey, and decided not to try anything too 'sweet'. He hadn't figured out how tolerant the doctors and nurses were around here yet. Settling for shaking Joey's shoulder, Mick didn't see any signs of him waking. “Joey?” Mick said. He repeated his name, louder, but Joey still didn't rouse. Mick knew pinching people's noses usually woke them up, considering it stopped them breathing, but he also knew it wasn't very nice. So he shook Joey's shoulder again, a bit harder this time. 

The third time, Joey moaned softly, and moved his head. _Finally!_ Another shake, and he opened his eyes, blinking. The light blinded him, and he shut them again. Mick was there, and he reached out for him, in the direction he thought he had to be. A larger, careful hand gripped his, and Joey knew it was ok to wake up. 

He looked around. “Where am I?” The last he remembered was falling asleep on the bus.

“KU Medical Center, in Kansas City,” Mick said, cupping Joey's face with his other hand. Joey nuzzled into him, closing his eyes again. 

“Why?”

“Because you got sick again. Do you remember?”

Joey tried to wade through his memory. He thought falling asleep on the bus was the last thing he remembered, but now, he thought he could remember something else. Mick was there, and so were some people Joey didn't know. He was hurting, and he couldn't stop himself shaking. Was that real?

“I don't know,” Joey said quietly. The memory didn't seem pleasant, so he decided to forget it. He shut it out, opening his eyes to look at Mick. “How long do I have to stay here?” 

Someone moved in the corner of Joey's vision. A doctor came into view; Joey hadn't been aware he was there. 

“You have something called gastritis. It means your stomach is inflamed, that's why you've been throwing up. You ended up with severe dehydration because of it. You're still running a temperature, but you're on the road to recovery.”

 _Really?_ So there was an answer to all of this. Joey looked at Mick. 

“I've been so worried about you,” the guitarist said. Joey squeezed his hand and smiled. The doctor was changing the bag on Joey's IV, and while he was distracted, Mick leaned down for a quick kiss. Joey wanted more as soon as he sat up again. 

“So how are you feeling, Joey?” the doctor asked. _Horny? Like he wanted to be left alone with Mick?_ He guessed that wasn't the sort of answer the doctor was expecting. 

“Um, tired. Kinda sore, I don't know why. But I don't feel sick. Or hungry.”

The doctor answered backwards. “You're not hungry because you're on a feeding tube. You've been getting nourishment all night. We'll take it out around lunchtime, and see if you can keep real food down. If not, it'll be back to the tube. That's good you don't feel sick. You are on medication that should suppress any nausea. We'll wean you off them in a few days and see how you go. You're probably sore because of the seizure you experienced last night. Your muscles will take a few days to recover. And I expect you to get plenty of rest. Your body needs to regenerate.”

So he **had** had that seizure? God, he felt better thinking he hadn't. At least it was over and done. Hopefully, he wouldn't be having any more of those. Thankfully, the doctor seemed done. Almost. 

“Any problems, let the nursing station know. I'm off duty now, but another doctor will be round to see you at lunch.” He smiled and left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving them alone. 

Mick didn't waste any time. His lips found their way back to Joey's, but he kept it tender and slow. As they broke apart, Joey smiled at him. 

“Did you stay here with me?” he whispered. Mick nodded, and kissed him again. 

“I would _never_ leave you,” he murmured in Joey's ear. “Don't you ever think otherwise.” Joey nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. Mick wiped them away carefully. “You're gonna get better, and I'm gonna take you home. Be nice to stay in your own bed, right?” He smiled at Joey. 

“Only if you're in it, too!” Joey said, raising his eyebrows at Mick. 

“Sounds like a date,” Mick grinned.


	15. Love's Requiem

Joey dozed off again not long afterwards, tightly clutching Mick's hand. He was so tired he was shaking slightly, and Mick felt awful he'd woken him up. Watching over him as he slept, he couldn't help thinking he didn't deserve Joey. He knew those thoughts were bad, but they played at the edge of his mind, forcing him to think about those things he could have done for Joey, but didn't. 

His negative thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was the same nurse from earlier. She stepped in, glancing at Joey sleeping quietly. 

“How is he?” she asked.

“I woke him up when the doctor was here. He's feeling ok, just really tired,” Mick answered. 

She nodded. “I'm not surprised. Don't worry yourself about it, it'll take a few days for him to get his strength back.” Almost straight away, Mick started to feel a bit better. So it wasn't his fault?

“I brought you some breakfast. It's just hospital food, but believe it or not, it's better than the breakfasts in the cafeteria.” She smiled and passed the tray to Mick, who took it gratefully.

“Thanks,” he said, slightly surprised. The people around here were nice. Well, most of them, Mick thought, remembering the nurse from last night. 

“I hope you don't mind scrambled eggs,' she grinned. “I found a bed for you too. An orderly will bring it in later. Might improve your sleep a bit. I know how hard those chairs are to sleep in.” 

Mick was starting to feel overwhelmed. “Thanks,” he said again, trying to think of something better to say to this nurse who was being so helpful. “That helps, a lot. It's really nice of you.” Ah, Shawn would be proud of him right now. The percussionist was always telling Mick he didn't have any manners. But what were the point of manners in Slipknot, anyway?

*

So the scrambled eggs were a bit rubbery and tasted like something you'd get on a plane, but Mick was so hungry he didn't really care. There was also something that Mick supposed were hash browns, which were, well, _brown_ , but quite possibly not made out of potatoes. He made a mental note to get the guys to bring in some proper food for Joey, he wasn't going to let him eat this crap. He put the tray on a cabinet by the door and wished he had more coffee. 

Mick was just starting to doze off in his uncomfortable plastic chair when there was a thump on the door. It was accompanied by a muffled shout, and some sort of shuffle. Sighing and smiling at the same time, Mick got up to open the door. 

“They let you bastards through the front door?” Mick asked, smirking. 

“Shud up and let us in!”

Mick stood back to let the rest of the band trickle in. Heck, were they mind-readers or something? Sid, Paul and Chris all carried plastic bags full of food, while Corey had magazines, Shawn had two laptop bags, Craig's arms were full of DVDs and Jim seemed to have snuck in... flowers? 

“Awwww!! You know he's gonna love those!” Despite his jesting, Mick knew Joey would be touched. None of them knew what kind of flowers they were, they had apparently been bought on the fact that Sid thought they were 'pretty'. Jim promptly stuck the flowers in Joey's water jug, artfully arranging them so they didn't all fall on one side. 

“How is he?” Seven voices all spoke at once. They stood around the bed, looking at Joey, quietly sleeping.

“Well, err, he's sleeping like mad, and he has a bit of a temperature,” Mick answered. 

Craig narrowed his eyes at him. “That doesn't sound so good, does it?”

“The doctors aren't worried about the sleeping, and they are keeping an eye on his temperature,” Mick said hurriedly. He hadn't meant to spook them. “It's just going to take a few days to get him back to normal.”

“What are all those things stuck in him?” Sid looked up with a questioning look at Mick. “I thought he was going to be ok?” He looked anxious.

“He’ll be ok, Sid. All that stuff is there to make sure he gets better. That's a feeding tube, umm, that's a cardiac monitor, it measures his heart rate, and that's the thingy – um, pump – for the feeding tube, and that's his IV. Simple, really, when you know what everything is for. It's ok Sid, really.”

Sid nodded silently, but Mick wondered if he'd gotten through to him. The DJ was holding the bar on the side of the bed, just staring at Joey. Craig was watching him too, and came up to slide an arm around him. “C'mon, Sid,” he said quietly, and led him away to sit down. 

The others relieved themselves of their burdens, and Paul ventured out to find some more chairs. In the midst of all the food shelving and chair-finding, an orderly managed to turn up with a spare bed for Mick. It wasn't a fold-up bed, it was literally a spare hospital bed. Corey immediately jumped on it and lay down. 

“This isn't too bad, Mick. And look, look! It goes up and down!” Corey had found the button that made the front of the bed do exactly that, and was having a great time. 

Shawn rolled his eyes and smiled at Mick. He came closer. 

“Look at him” - he nodded at Joey - “I always knew he was a great sleeper, but I think right now he'd sleep through a hurricane.”

They laughed, but Mick didn't take his eyes off Joey. He looked so peaceful, surrounded by the chaos the guys were causing. Mick contemplated waking him up so he could see everyone, but he knew Joey was so tired. Shawn seemed to read his mind.

“Leave him be, Mick. If he wakes up he wakes up, but if he doesn't, we'll just come back tomorrow and try again. And bring an amp, or something.” He smiled and patted Mick on the back. 

Despite having just had a hospital breakfast, Mick filled himself again with potato crisps and pop-tarts. Corey had relinquished his command of the spare bed, and kindly allowed Craig and Shawn room to sit. Mick hoped he wasn't going to be finding crumbs in it tonight. The others were on hospital chairs, apart from Paul who was on the windowsill. Mick sat on Joey's bed, one hand in a bag of crisps and the other on Joey's leg.

Shawn pulled out of the laptops. Mick recognised it as his. 

“Mind if I check out a few things?” Shawn asked Mick, tilting the computer in his direction. 

Mick shook his head. “Nah, go ahead. Don't mind the porn, though.” They all laughed and went back to their food. Shawn turned the laptop on and clicked into Google. After a few minutes, he swore under his breath and started to chuckle.

“What?!” Corey asked beside him, craning his neck round to see.

“I googled Joey's name. Everyone seems to know it was Joey we stopped the concert for last night. They all know he hasn't been playing. But man... you gotta check out some of these sites. This kid thinks Joey's dead. Another one thinks Joey got kicked out of the band. And this fucking arsehole, reckons Joey up and left and is playing for Cradle of Filth. Fuck man. This shit is good.” 

Mick watched as the guys all crowded around Shawn. “So they haven't issued a press statement about him yet?”

“No. I think they are going to, today at some point. Tell the truth. Joey's sick, he's in hospital but he'll be fine. Still, you know there'll be kids who think he really is dead.” Shawn rolled his eyes for the second time that day. 

“Well, he don't look dead to me,” Jim pointed out. “Maybe we could take a photo and post it,” he grinned. 

“Don't be so evil, Jim!” Chris said. “He'd hate you for life. He hasn't had a chance to do his hair or makeup!”

“Now now!” Shawn called over the laughter that followed. “Leave him alone. Let the stupid public think what they want. If they want to think that he's dead, let them get a shock when he starts playing drums live again.” 

“They'll think we just found another midget and stuck a mask on him,” Sid said, who by now had brightened up. The laughter started again, and even Mick joined in. It was nice that things were getting back to normal, and they could stand around and joke again. 

Mick looked back at Joey just to make sure he was still ok. He had being doing that so much lately it had become an unconsciousness habit. He found himself checking on him all the time, even to the point last night where he was waking up every so often to make sure he was still sleeping. 

The others had calmed down now. Corey was reading over Shawn's shoulder, and Craig and Chris were watching on in interest. Sid was reading a magazine they'll brought with them, Paul was staring out the window at something Mick couldn't see, and Jim was gazing at Joey. They had descended into silence, with the odd laughter issuing from the group around the laptop. Mick moved up so he was sitting next to Joey, careful not to sit on anything important. 

It was a warm day and the atmosphere inside the room was comfortable and drowsy. Mick was content to sit with Joey, watching the others. He felt sleepy, and thought about kicking everyone off his bed so he could have a nap. He was starting to close his eyes when he felt Joey move on the bed next to him. He wriggled again, and Mick snapped his eyes open and sat up. 

Jim got up too, and the others looked up, confused. 

“What's up?” Paul asked. 

“I think he's waking up,” Jim replied. 

Mick was bending over Joey, a hand on his cheek. “Joey? Wake up.”

The drummer groaned and started to blink. He dragged himself awake from the abyss of sleep and gazed sleepily at the men standing around his bed. He tried to sit up, but Mick pressed a hand to his shoulder gently. 

“Hey you!” Corey exclaimed. “We've been waiting for you.”

Joey smiled sleepily, and feebly lifted a hand in greeting. He felt his eyes closing again and forced them apart, trying to focus on Mick. His boyfriend's worried face swam into view, and he tried to smile. A hand enclosed his, and he squeezed it as hard as he could. Mick squeezed back, and as if they were alone, leant down to kiss Joey.

Joey let his eyes close as he felt Mick on his lips. The world fell away when Mick loved him like this, and he forgot about their audience as he kissed back. It was sweet, and delicate, and precious. His blue eyes opened as Mick pulled away, and he felt his tiredness fall away. 

The others stood in uncomfortable silence, a stark contrast to the affection before them. Mick and Joey had only eyes for each other as they sat on the bed, and it wasn't just Craig who felt the need to look away, if just to give them a semblance of privacy. And when he did look back again, it was with some trepidation. But Mick and Joey didn't acknowledge their devotion, and the conversation soon turned to things less awkward. 

Sid helped with that. “People think you're dead, Joe. Just thought you'd want to know.” 

It broke the silence, and eased the air in the room. Joey giggled. 

“Yeah dude, you shoulda have seen this one site.... all sorts of conspiracy theories! Apparently you're playing for Cradle of Filth,” Paul told him.

Joey shrugged thoughtfully. “I like that idea... good band!” 

Jests and threats followed from all corners, ending with a blunt statement from Jim regarding the musical talent of said band. Joey agreed to disagree, and the subject was changed to food. 

“Aren't you hungry Joey?” Corey asked.  
Mick stared at him, grinning. “ You heard a word I said before? He's got a feeding tube in. Doctor said he might take it out later though.” 

Joey grimaced. “Looking forward to that.” He swallowed as if uncomfortable. 

“You alright?” Mick asked. 

Joey nodded. “It's just, I think it literally goes all the way into my stomach. If they want me to stop throwing up, it wouldn't be a good idea to pull it out.” 

They all laughed, Mick not as much as the others. Joey saw his concern. “It'll be ok. I really don't feel sick anymore.” He clasped Mick's hand tightly, and saw the bigger man smile. 

“What's in it then, Joey?” Jim asked. “Chocolate? Sandwiches? Roast beef?”

Shawn smacked him in the arm. “Don't be stupid. It's obviously pickles and crackers.”

“Tripe and kidneys,” Sid piped up. 

“Yeah, you know I heard that's really good for you,” Paul said seriously, raising his eyebrow at Sid. “Might be good for you too.”

Sid turned a sickly shade of pale, and poked his tongue out at Paul before closing his mouth. Paul grinned at him and got him in a headlock. Sid struggled free, laughing, and ran to hide behind Jim. 

Joey watched happily from the bed, now snuggling up to Mick. He was feeling a bit better now that he'd woken up properly and was enjoying seeing the banter going on around him. His hand was still firmly enclosed in Mick's, and the guitarist stroked his thumb ever so softly over Joey's. It was nice to be awake, and not feeling sick. The dull exhaustion that ate away at him would hopefully go away soon, but Joey felt he could cope with it while the nausea was at bay. 

*

They enjoyed the afternoon together, as much as anyone could enjoy spending time in a cramped hospital room. Mick barely left Joey's side, feeling very protective of the drummer while he was recovering. The others knew to keep their distance; at one point, Corey referred to Mick as 'mother hen' (behind his back, of course. He didn't want to be mortally wounded). And it was true that Mick kept a sort of invisible shield around Joey, as if something one of the others could do might damage or hurt Joey in some way. 

Around 1.30pm a new doctor stopped by to check on Joey's progress. He decided not to remove the feeding tube just yet, feeling that Joey could do with another day of guaranteed nutrition. He declared Joey fitter, and was pleased his temperature seemed to be abating. A nurse changed the IV bag, and checked that the feeding tube was still working.

Mick felt such a sense of relief as he watched the professionals work around Joey. Why hadn't he taken him to hospital earlier? Vowing never to compromise Joey's health again, he thanked the doctor and nurse as they left. The rest of Slipknot looked on silently, not keen on being kicked out for raucous behaviour. 

The door had slid closed and the others had returned to their pre-doctor activities when Joey turned his face up to Mick.

“Mick?” he whispered. 

“Yea?” Mick said, just as quietly. 

“I'm so tired.”

“Baby....” Mick stroked Joey's face gently as he closed his eyes. “Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up.” He kissed Joey's forehead tenderly and brushed his hair back. He waited as Joey fell into a deep sleep, shushing the boys when they got too noisy.

He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on Joey's bed. He browsed the net for a while and chuckled at the theories that abounded on forums about Joey's mysterious problem, shaking his head and wondering how people could think of some things. Someone had videoed the very point in the concert last night where Mick left the stage and the others had followed – the clip had over 10,000 views already. He watched the grainy picture, just making out the panic that struck his body when he was alerted to Joey's condition. There was confusion and disorder on the stage after he deserted, and he saw each member put down their instruments and run after him. Sid made his little speech – pretty good too, Mick thought – and then the stage was empty. The buzzing of the crowd was like a swarm of angry bees, but the video cut off before Mick could find out how the organisers had pacified the audience. 

After he grew bored of the net, he went on to the magazines that had brought along. He read an article about himself, which he didn't normally do, and regretted it when he saw how badly he had been misquoted. Again. 

_Fuckers_ , Mick thought. 

At 3.45pm, a nurse came round to encourage everyone to start leaving. After promising to be back tomorrow, same time, with more supplies and new magazines, Slipknot trooped out. They each glanced at Joey as they left, who was still asleep. 

“Take good care of him, Mick,” Shawn said quietly, the last to leave. “We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Mick nodded and smiled, not bothering to get up. “Thanks, guys.” 

One last wave, and the door shut behind them. The room was suddenly quiet and still, and Mick was alone with Joey. Tiredness was creeping into his movements, and putting the laptop away carefully, he kissed Joey several times, not willing to make each kiss the last. Finally, he straightened, and eyed his hospital bed. 

He picked up his blankets and pillows from by his chair, now thankfully redundant, and checked out his new bed. _Yep.... crumbs!_ Mick cursed Corey and his messes, and brushed the bed as clean as he could. Climbing into it and laying down, he was immediately grateful for its comfort. It wasn't long before he was sinking into the same deep oblivion as Joey.


	16. A Reflection of Heaven

A nurse bringing dinner woke him up around 6pm. The short nap had done him good, and he felt refreshed. Joey was still asleep, curled up on his other side. Mick took the dinner tray and thanked the nurse, but after she left, he slid it onto the table by the bed and headed for his food stash. Rummaging through, he settled on a sandwich and doughnuts. 

He reclaimed his plastic chair next to Joey's bed, and ate his way through his 'dinner'. He was working on the last mouthful of his sandwich when Joey started to rouse. Guessing the drummer had probably smelt the food, Mick chuckled. He stood up and sat on the bed, placing a hand on either side of Joey so he leant over him. 

“Hey you,” he said, smiling.

Joey blinked sleepily and returned the smile. He squirmed on the bed, trying to stretch, but finding himself restricted by the electrodes on his chest. Mick stilled him and bent down to kiss his cheek. 

“Did you smell the food?” he smirked. 

“Food? Who's got food? But I'm not hungry,” Joey said, almost disappointed. He wouldn't mind enjoying something to eat for a change. His feeding tube took care of that for him, unfortunately. 

“Yeah, well, they might yank that thing out later, if you’re lucky,” Mick said playfully. Joey couldn't think of anything to say, so poked his tongue out in retaliation. 

He had a sudden thought. “They won't actually do that, will they?” he asked Mick, slightly panicked. 

The guitarist looked confused. “Do what?”

“Yank it out!” Joey exclaimed.

“Well, Joey, they have to get it out somehow, you know!” Mick said, amused.

“But I don't want it to hurt,” Joey said, almost in a whisper. 

Mick turned serious. He leaned closer to Joey. “You honestly think I'd let them hurt you?” He punctuated his sentence with a sweet, lingering kiss on Joey's forehead. He tucked Joey's hair back behind his ear. “Don't worry. It'll be fine, I promise,” he whispered. 

Joey nodded, pacified. “Do you think they'll take this off too?” Joey questioned, pointing to the cardiac monitor. 

“I don't know, baby. Hopefully. I don't think you need it anymore. Maybe they'll come around tonight and we can see.” 

No sooner had those words escaped from Mick's mouth than the doctor did indeed knock on the door and poke his head in. Mick and Joey started laughing, much to the doctor's confusion.

“Sorry,” Mick apologised. “I was just saying that maybe you'd come round again tonight when you knocked on the door,” he explained. 

The doctor smiled. “If there's one thing you can expect around here, it's for us to continually pester you.” Joey grinned. “You look a lot better,” the doctor remarked. “How are you feeling?” 

“Good. Not as tired as before. My stomach feels better,” Joey replied. 

The doctor nodded. “Excellent. I'm glad to hear that. I'd like to try removing the feeding tube. I'm sure it's not the most comfortable thing in the world.” 

Joey shook his head. “It sucks.” Everyone laughed. 

“Okayyyy...” the doctor mused. “Can you sit up for me?” 

Mick helped Joey sit up. He was slightly dizzy for a bit, but the sensation faded quickly.

“That's usual,” the doctor said. “You haven't sat up in a while, so your head needs to readjust.” He carefully removed the tape holding the feeding tube in place. “Now, can you take a deep breath for me?”

Joey obliged. He saw the doctor start to pull, and felt the tube rise in his throat. He shut his eyes tight, and Mick gripped his hand. Joey squeezed hard as he flinched, trying not to gag. The tube seemed to be never-ending, and Joey just wanted it to be over. It felt awful. Suddenly it was out, and Joey let out his breath shakily. 

“Here.” The doctor held out a tissue, and Joey took it to wipe his nose. Despite the uncomfortable experience, he was glad it was out. 

Mick squeezed his hand in a silent question. Joey looked at him, and saw the worry in his eyes. The drummer gave him a small smile, and squeezed back. Oblivious with his back to them, the doctor didn't notice when Mick kissed Joey quickly. It didn't make up for having a tube jerked out of his stomach, but Mick hoped it would help. 

The doctor played around with the cardiac monitor, and soon the blinking lights died. “I don't think you need this any longer,” the doctor said. He removed the electrodes from Joey's chest. It wasn't painful considering the total lack of hair. He was finally tube and electrode-free.

“You should be more comfortable tonight,” the doctor said, writing something in Joey's chart. “You'll be staying with him?” He directed his question at Mick, who nodded. “Good, good. Any problems, press the buzzer. Someone will be in to see you in the morning.” He stuck the chart back at the end of Joey's bed, nodded his head, and was gone.

“Thank fuck!” Joey cried.

Mick laughed. “What's up with you?” 

“No more feeding tube! Where's the food?” He wasn’t messing around.

Mick grinned. “I ate it all. None left. There is, however,” - he pointed to the tray - “a delectable hospital meal, sitting just over there, waiting for you. I believe it's rice and vegetables tonight.” 

Joey pouted. “Liar.” 

“Nah ah. All gone. We had a party while you were asleep.”

“With beer?”

“Yes Joey, with beer. Coors light and Heineken.” 

Mick dodged Joey's punch, laughing. “Ok, ok. I'll get you something to eat. What do you want? We got doughnuts, crisps, pop-tarts, crackers, cookies and Twinkies. Oh and some sandwiches. Which we should probably eat before they go off.” He grabbed a veritable selection of goodies and dumped them on the bed. Joey dived for a pack of crisps. 

“Hey, what happened to eating the sandwiches?”

“You eat 'em!” Joey's reply was muffled, his mouth stuffed with crisps. 

Mick chuckled and kissed Joey on the top of his head. “You're so typical sometimes.”

Joey just kept on eating. 

After a while, Mick started to put the food back. “What're you doing?” Joey asked, indignant. 

“Making sure you don't get sick again, that's what! You don't need to try everything, you know,” Mick scolded gently. Joey shrugged. Fair point. He was starting to feel full, anyway. He put the crisps back on the table. 

“You ok?” Mick asked, when he noticed. God, he hoped he hadn't upset Joey. He put away the handful of food he had and sat down on the bed, wrapping an arm around him. “I'm sorry.”

Joey shook his head. “It's ok, it's nothing you said. I'm just not as hungry as I thought.” He laid his head on Mick's shoulders and sighed. “I'm tired again.” He snuggled into the guitarist’s side. 

Mick could feel Joey falling asleep in his arms. Just a minute ago he had been bubbly, and now he was barely holding his eyes open. He guessed Joey's body sometimes needed a while to catch up to his mind. Gently, he eased Joey down until he was on the pillow. A few seconds later, he was fast asleep. Shaking his head, Mick kissed Joey's temple. 

Clearing the bed of the rest of the food, Mick yawned. He glanced at his watch. 7.30pm! He'd never been to bed this early before. Figuring he had nothing better to do anyway, he made himself ready for sleep. Looking forward to a night in a comfortable(ish) bed, he switched the lights off, leaving only the dull lamp above Joey’s bed to illuminate the darkness.

*

Having gone to bed so early, Mick was wide awake by 4am. He whiled the time away sitting with Joey, and munching through the rest of the doughnuts. When the nurse turned up at first rounds, he was browsing the net, checking up on Joey's 'status'. Apparently, he was still dead.

“Better sleep this time?” the nurse asked. 

“Definitely! I was able to walk straight away this morning. Thanks again.” 

The nurse smiled. “No problem! Did he wake up?” 

Mick shook his head. “Slept all the way through.” 

“Ok. He should be feeling a lot better today. I see the doctor took him off the monitor and removed the feeding tube, he should be appreciating that.”

“Just a bit!”

The hospital breakfast that morning was French toast. It was soggy and overcooked, and Mick was glad for the doughnuts. He poked at it for a bit, watching it wobble, before discarding the tray. Hospital food was worse than plane food, he decided. 

He sat back next to Joey, to wait for him to wake up. He didn't have to wait long, obviously the extra sleep had worked his magic on him too. Joey's beautiful eyes stared up at him, still slightly puffy in the wake of his sleep. 

“Good morning,” Mick whispered in his ear.

Joey's smile captivated him. “Hey. You been here all night or something?”

“Nah, went out for the night. Got drunk, met a cute young guy... you know how it goes from there.” He winked and grinned. 

Joey rolled his eyes. “I bet he wasn't as cute as me.” 

Mick shook his head in agreement. “Or as good a fuck either,” he said, and prevented Joey from replying by kissing him. 

“Bastard!” Joey gasped as they ended their kiss.

“Why am I a bastard?” Mick asked, a smile playing on his face.

“Because you didn't let me say that you know I'm the best lay you've ever had.” He grinned wickedly before Mick smothered him with kisses.

 

“Anyway, how are you feeling?” Mick asked him.

“Better,” Joey said truthfully. He was starting to feel like himself. He was still a bit tired, but that awful, exhausted to the bones feeling had gone. His stomach was behaving itself for once, which Joey appreciated. All in all, things were looking up. 

“You look better,” Mick said, stroking his cheek. “You don't look like death anymore.” 

Joey closed his eyes and relaxed as Mick brushed over his skin. He sighed when he traced his lips with his finger, wishing he was on the bed next to him.

“What are you thinking about?” Mick whispered.

Joey swallowed. “You and me... together.”

He heard Mick moan quietly, and shift on the bed so he was closer. Suddenly, lips were playing at his chest, and he shuddered. One hand stroked Mick's hair while the other rubbed Mick's shoulder. God, those lips felt so good.... he urged them lower, but Mick wasn't playing ball.

Wet heat surrounded one of his nipples, and Joey moaned. Mick's licking was driving him crazy, and he spread his legs. 

“Mick.... “ he spluttered out. The guitarist looked up. “I want you so badly.” Joey's hips bucked upward as he said it. “Fuck me!”

Mick let out an animalistic growl. He stood up, unbuckling his jeans. He had been hard since the moment Joey had woken up. Joey's hands drifted down to grasp his erection under the blanket, his arousal heightening as he watched Mick strip. The guitarist slid the bedcoverings down, exposing Joey. Undressing Joey in a hurry, he climbed on top of the smaller man, his cock in his hand. He couldn't believe he was about to fuck Joey in a hospital bed. 

Joey's hands on his hips urged him forward. The tip of his cock touched Joey's mouth, and Mick felt his legs shake as the drummer darted out a tongue to lick the head. He tilted himself forward and watched as his cock slid into Joey's open mouth. Curses expelled from his mouth as Joey expertly sucked and licked, giving him the best blow job of his life. He steadied himself on the wall, trying to keep his moans as quiet as possible. 

His boyfriend's tongue on his cock was unlike anything. One of Joey's hands slid down to rub his balls, teasing him where he wanted it the most. Mick was so aroused he felt like exploding. He was getting desperate for release now, and thrust his hips forwards. Joey relaxed his throat and to Mick's absolute pleasure he slid as far into Joey's mouth as it was possible. 

This was it. Looking at Joey deep-throating him, eyes closed, sent Mick over the brink. He held back a deep moan as he came hard, Joey sucking and swallowing. _Fuck, he needed that so bad!_

His erection refused to subside as he pulled out of Joey's mouth. The drummer was flushed and panting hard, his hips jerking under Mick. 

“Fuck me baby, now!”

The desperation in Joey's voice went straight to Mick's cock. He nodded, gasping for breath. Lube. Lube? FUCK! Then inspiration hit. He curled his hands under Joey's hips. “Get up sweetheart.” Joey complied as Mick moved to give him room. “Hands and knees.” Joey obediently turned around so his ass was in front of Mick. 

Spreading Joey's ass with his hands, Mick leaned forward. He licked Joey slowly, and felt him tremble and moan softly. He licked again, and Joey cried out. Concentrating on Joey's entrance, Mick teased and probed with his tongue. Joey relaxed and Mick felt his tongue slide in a little way. 

When Joey was wet enough, Mick started to circle his entrance with a finger. Joey pushed back with his hips when he felt the finger probing him, and his thrust was enough to ensure it buried itself inside him. 

“More!” Joey moaned, and Mick slid another finger alongside the first. Joey started to rock his hips, fucking himself on Mick's fingers. 

Mick started to jerk Joey off with his other hand, and almost immediately the smaller man started to writhe, his body desperate for Mick. Joey couldn't wait any longer. He knew he could take Mick. 

“Mick?! Mick please... god....now!” he breathed.

Mick heard him. He pulled out his fingers and spat on his hand, greasing his cock. A small hand reached back for him, and Mick guided it to his cock. Joey lined Mick up with him, and tilted his hips back. Slowly, Mick embedded himself inside Joey. He watched as Joey took as much as he could, oblivious to Mick's size. 

Joey moaned in sheer relief as he felt Mick inside him. The guitarist began to thrust, slowly at first, but as Joey moaned and cried he increased the pace. Joey clung to the head of the bed, biting his lip in an effort to prevent screaming out. Mick was pounding into him so hard he could barely breathe, and it took all his effort just to stay up. His cock was aching and leaking, and he gripped it with a hand. In time with Mick, he jerked himself off, precum seeping onto the sheets below. 

His orgasm crept up on him surprisingly slowly, turning his body into a quivering mass of sweat, nerves and lust. He couldn't hold back the choking moans, and he felt Mick kiss his shoulder sweetly. Hot cum pooled on the bed. Mick only needed a few more thrusts before he followed Joey's lead, climaxing inside. Joey could feel the spurts, and he could hear Mick moaning. He tightened his muscles around Mick, noting with pleasure the softly uttered curses that followed. 

Pulling out, Mick nibbled on Joey's shoulder. The smaller man giggled sleepily, and Mick pulled him up to wrap his arms around his waist. “Feel better?” 

“Goddddddd.... yes!”

Mick kissed him deeply, savouring the taste on his tongue. “We're very naughty,” he said quietly, as they broke apart. 

Joey grinned. “That was the best part!”

Mick spanked Joey lightly on his ass, before reaching for the tissues. He cleaned the mess on the bed as best he could, and helped Joey sit down. He hopped off the bed to pick up the discarded clothes, finding them everywhere. Turning back around to chuck them on the bed, he stopped as he saw Joey on the bed. The blood started rushing from his brain back to his cock as he watched the drummer. His legs were spread and he was rubbing himself with a finger, his alert penis straining above. 

Mick's legs suddenly had problems supporting his weight. Dropping the clothes, his new erection led him to the bed. Sitting in front of Joey, he laid his hands on his legs, pushing them apart further. 

“What are you doing?” he asked Joey, his voice husky with lust. 

The smaller man looked up. His face was flushed red, lips parted. “I could feel you...” 

Mick was confused, until Joey held up the finger had been masturbating with. It was white and sticky, and Mick realised it was his cum. “Jesus...... Don't stop.” Joey obliged him. 

Mick watched as Joey finger fucked himself, fascinated by the movement. More cum was leaking out with every thrust, and Mick had the sudden desire to taste it. 

“Stop.” 

Joey looked up. 

“Lay down.” 

Joey did as he was told. Mick lifted his legs up until they were nearly pressing on his chest, and Joey grabbed them. Mick bent down until Joey couldn't see him anymore. Then, he felt him, that tongue violating him again. 

“Ohhhhhhhhh.....” he moaned, delirious with lust. His hips were bucking unconsciously in response to the delicious sensations spreading through him, and he could feel his legs trembling and shaking. Mick was doing unspeakable things to him. 

The bed was shaking, noisy in the small space. Neither of them heard it. Joey was oblivious to everything except the feel of Mick's tongue, and the rushing of blood beating in his ears. A finger joined the tongue, and as it slid in, Joey couldn't hold in a cry of ecstasy. Instead of thrusting, Mick curled his finger and began to explore, his tongue now caressing the base of Joey's penis. He arched his back in bliss as Mick probed places inside him that Joey didn't know existed. 

Suddenly Mick's finger brushed over something that made Joey's body spasm. A jolt of electric pleasure shot up his spine, and he gasped loudly. Mick rubbed the spot again, and Joey lost all control. His hands flew up to behind his head to press against the wall, and his legs convulsed without restraint. Whimpering irrepressibly, he felt emotions and feelings boil intensely inside him, to the point where he thought he would be torn in half if they couldn't be released. 

Mick responded to Joey's elevated state of arousal by concentrating on the potent area that was making him shake. His other hand gripped Joey's erection, a finger rubbing over the head as his tongue continued to lick his balls. Joey felt it in the nerves that were threatening to explode, his skin sticky with sweat, his eyes rolling into his head, the rapid heartbeat in his ears. With a choked scream he came, biting down so hard on his lip he drew blood. His toes curled under so far his feet cramped, and he thought he might burst out of his skin. 

Shaking, Joey rode out his orgasm, his muscles spasming under his skin. He became dimly aware that Mick was holding him, kissing his collarbone softly. He heard someone whimpering, and realised it was himself. Mick was hushing him now, soothing, and he gripped Mick's arm desperately. 

“Baby, it's ok, shhhh......” 

Mick's comforting weight was bearing down on him, forcing him still. His concerned face was the first thing Joey saw as he opened his eyes, and he reached up to touch him.

“You alright?” Mick whispered, still worried. 

Joey couldn't find his voice. He nodded, swallowing hard. His muscles were still trembling slightly, but orgasmic pleasure still lingered in his veins, and he felt contented. 

He was becoming more aware of the world around him, and he could feel Mick hard against him. As he regained control of his limbs, he pulled his legs up so they wrapped around Mick's waist. The guitarist's lips were caressing him again, this time playing at the edge of his mouth. Joey closed his eyes and let his hands stroke Mick's shoulders, succumbing to his dominant partner. 

Shifting his hips slightly, Mick's cock pressed against Joey's entrance. With just a little pressure, he slid in, the earlier sex leaving him easy for Mick. Slowly he thrust into Joey, concentrating on giving him as much pleasure as he could. He moaned quietly, nipping at the damp skin at his lips. 

Joey buried his head in the crook of Mick's neck, gasping lowly. Mick's lips were teasing circles on his shoulder now, setting his skin alight. Their hips rocked together in time unhurriedly, Mick sliding in and out slowly. He kissed every part of Joey he could reach, letting him know through his touch and sense that he loved him more than anything. 

Mick could feel his release building, and he braced himself above Joey, penetrating him slightly deeper. Joey gasped and scraped his fingernails down Mick's back as he felt him push harder. He watched as Mick came, uttering Joey's name over and over. 

“God, baby....” he moaned, leaning down to kiss Joey.

Gripping one of Joey's legs, he pulled out, sliding his hand up to the drummer's arse and rubbing softly as he lay down beside him. Joey let Mick's arm fall around his shoulders before he snuggled close to the bigger man, kissing his chest. 

“Joey...?” Mick asked sleepily. 

“Yeah?” came the reply, just as sleepy. 

“What'd you think would happen if someone walked in on us right now?”

Joey opened his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbow, so he was looking down at Mick. “You're really romantic, anyone ever tell you that? First you fuck me on a hospital bed, now you're more worried about people walking in us than being together.” With that, he stuck his tongue out. 

Mick laughed. “God, you're gorgeous. But I still think we ought to get dressed.”

Joey pouted, his fingers tracing the hard muscles on Mick's arms. Sleep was swamping him again, and he couldn't be bothered getting dressed. Flopping back down, he closed his eyes. 

Mick was holding his face, but Joey couldn't open his eyes. He mumbled something at Mick; what, he wasn't quite sure. He thought he drifted off, but a warm, wet sensation on his face urged him awake. Mick was standing by his bed, and Joey realised it was a facecloth.   
“Go back to sleep,” Mick urged softly. He ran the cloth down the side of Joey's face tenderly, wiping away the sweat. Despite wanting to stay awake with Mick, Joey found his eyes closing again. He let himself fall under the black veil of sleep. 

Mick bathed Joey carefully, and as best as he could while he was still on the bed. His hair would have to wait, not much Mick could do about it now. He tried not to wake Joey again, but judging by the tiredness on his face before, Mick didn't think it would be a recurring problem. Even while he dressed Joey again and made sure he was comfortable under the blankets, there were no signs of life except the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Sitting on the windowsill, Mick watched as Joey turned himself over in his sleep and curled up. He was tiny compared to the bed, but it wasn't so scary to Mick now that he was off the cardiac monitor and no longer had tubes sticking out of him. Resting his head against the window behind him, he closed his eyes. The morning had drifted past in a haze of lust, and though satiated, Mick could still feel Joey's skin sliding under his own. He saw in his mind's eye Joey on the bed, writhing underneath him, and smiled as he recalled the moans and touches. Sighing deeply, he settled further into his daydream. _Stroking his skin... kissing him softly.... taking him in his hands..._

**BANG BANG!**

“ _Mick?_ ” 

Slipknot at the door. _How typical,_ Mick thought. _I reach the good part...._ He chuckled, and got up to open the door.


	17. Under The Rose

“What the fuck do you want?” Mick asked mockingly at the men gathered around the door. “Admittance is only with more doughnuts!”

Sid waved a box of Krispy Kremes at him and shoved past. “I bags the bed!”

Corey grumbled at him behind his back, weighed down with bags of more food. 

“Gees, you buy out the supermarket or something?” Mick called to him as the singer stalked into the room. 

“Nearly!” Shawn answered instead, quite cheerfully. “How's the little fucker?” 

Mick smiled at him. “See for yourself.” 

“Hey, what happened to the thingies?” Sid asked, standing by Joey's bed. “And why isn't he awake?” He started to prod Joey's shoulder. Mick's laughter at Sid's technical terms died as he saw Sid trying to wake him. “Don't Sid! Leave him alone. He's tired.”

The DJ looked up. “Sorry. But he's always asleep!”

“I know,” Mick said, understanding. “But he just needs to rest.”

“You wear him out already, Thomson?” Corey winked at him. 

Mick swallowed. That was far too close to the truth for him. “Shut up, Taylor.”

“Ohhhhhhh!” Jim exclaimed, sarcastic. “I think you hit a nerve, Corey!” He winked, and Mick felt himself redden. 

“Quit it, guys!” Craig said quietly. Silence descended, broken only by Chris' attempt to open the window. He nearly fell out as it finally jerked open, and fresh air rushed into the room. Mick wished he'd thought of that earlier, he could only imagine what the room smelt like. Grabbing some fresh doughnuts from the box, he took his usual position next to Joey on the bed. 

“So, when did they take those whatchamacallits out?” Corey asked, mouth full of blueberry doughnut. 

Mick smiled. “Last night. Much to Joey's relief.”

Corey nodded, frosting falling onto his lap. “Awesome,” he mumbled. “He looks better already.”

“When can he leave?” Jim asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

Mick shrugged. “Haven't actually asked lately. Hopefully in the next couple of days, as long he stays ok.” 

“And what if he gets sick again?” Shawn asked quietly. 

“More medicine I guess. Let's hope it doesn't happen.” The conversation faded off, and they all looked at Joey on the bed. Mick laid a hand on his shoulder. 

For a while, the morning passed much the same as it had the day before. They lazed around the room, munching on doughnuts and checking the net or reading magazines. Sid had a portable games console, and every now and again various loud noises would explode from it and startle everyone. After one particularly loud outburst, Shawn threatened to throw it out the window and Sid turned it off. The DJ wandered over to Joey's bed and flopped down in the vacant plastic chair. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed. Joey lay sleeping between them. 

“You really like him, don't you?” Sid asked, so quietly none of the others heard him. 

Mick nodded. “Yeah... I think it's a bit more than that though,” he replied, just as quietly. Joey shifted on the bed and Mick stilled him with a soft hand. Sid watched them, fascinated. Mick caught Sid gazing at him, and smiled. 

Sid blushed. “Sorry.... I just... errr...”

Mick chuckled. “Don't worry, Sid. I understand, it's probably a bit odd...”

“Not odd! Not weird, or anything. I've just never, um, had friends that were..... you know.” He blushed even more. 

Mick reached out with a hand to Sid's shoulder. “Sid. Seriously. It's ok!” He raised his eyebrows at the younger man, and nodded. Sid nodded back, breaking into a small smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but beneath them Joey started to squirm, waking up. Mick forgot about the DJ and stroked Joey's face. 

“Hey.... wake up, Joe..”  
The small figure sighed deeply, before raising a hand to hold Mick's. His eyes blinked open, and Mick leaned down to kiss him softly. Sid could see Joey's hand tightening on Mick's as their lips met. Mick murmured something to Joey that Sid couldn't catch, and he watched as Mick helped the smaller man sit up. 

“Hey Sid...” Joey said sleepily. 

“Hey you. Good to see you awake.” Sid hoped his voice didn't sound as odd as he thought it might. 

Joey smiled as Mick fussed around him. He took the glass of water offered to him, settling back against the pillows that Mick arranged behind him. Feeling slightly awkward, Sid tried to bring the situation back down onto a plane he understood. “Doughnuts, Joey?” 

The patient laughed. “How'd you know, Sid?” 

The DJ shrugged. “You look like a hungry man, Joey! Blueberry, chocolate, strawberry, and errr, I dunno what these ones are, but Shawn reckons they're really good.” 

Joey played it safe and took a blueberry doughnut. Mick frowned at him. “That's not much of a breakfast.” 

“C'mon Mick, it's nice to be able to eat again,” Joey said, a hand stroking Mick's arm. “A doughnut isn't going to kill me, is it?” he added, smiling. 

Mick gave in and chuckled. Blueberry filling trickled out of the side of Joey's mouth and he carefully wiped it away with a finger, licking it off. “Hey, that's not bad. Chuck me one Sid.” 

The others came over to say good morning to Joey, perching themselves around his bed. Sid handed out the doughnuts, but only Shawn would eat the 'special' ones. Mick despaired at the copious amounts of crumbs spilling onto the bed, but knew he was powerless to do anything about it. Teaching these guys to mind their manners was about as practical as teaching an animal to live like a human. And Joey seemed happy enough, smiling and laughing with everyone. He seemed to sense that Mick wasn't so happy though, and turned to him every now and again. 

Mick couldn't sense the problem, but he felt uneasy. Things should be good, with Joey getting better and everyone together again, but there was something about the scene that bothered Mick. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it was really starting to bug him. So he kept quiet, sitting next to Joey.

Corey put on a DVD, and Mick sat numbly, not taking it in. Joey was leaning against him, breathing softly, giggling at the funny parts in the movie. Mick found himself counting Joey's breaths, and his world became that which only included him and Joey. It came as a surprise when Joey turned to him halfway through, wanting to get up. Joey grinned at the expression on his face.

“Wake up, you,” he said playfully. 

Mick smiled back at him, and helped him out of the bed. The others barely looked away from the TV screen as Mick helped Joey to the bathroom. He kept guard outside the door in case Joey needed him, but his services weren't necessary. 

Joey leaned on Mick for support as he led him back to the bed, but Mick suspected it was more out of a desire for closeness than any sort of frailness. This seem to make him feel better, and at the same time increase his psychosis. Joey clung to his hand as he climbed back on the bed, and didn't relinquish his grip as he settled back down again. Mick huddled closer to him on the bed, wanting to feel him near, pulling him against his chest. Joey lay back happily, sighing, Mick's arms around him, comfortable and safe. 

Mick fell back into the routine of counting Joey's breaths, and knew the smaller man was falling asleep when his breathing became slow and deep. He nuzzled his head into Joey's hair, finding his neck and kissing him gently. Joey's skin was so soft, and he could feel the pulsing of veins under the surface. 

In sleep, Joey lay his head against Mick's. His hands still clung to the arms around his waist, as if Mick was his anchor. Mick fell into a stupor, eyes pointed towards the TV but seeing something else. He didn't hear the laughter that echoed around the room when they found something funny, or the gibes that Corey and Paul threw at the screen during the so-called 'kissy parts'. Even when the movie was over and a nurse poked her head in to remind them they needed to move on, Mick needed several prods from Shawn to blink back into consciousness.

“Hmmm? What's up?” he asked confusedly, seeing the others for the first time in what seemed like hours.

“We have to go,” Shawn said, smiling. 

As Mick took that in, Joey started to squirm in his arms. Forgetting about the rest of the guys again, he rested a hand on Joey's forehead. “Hey, wake up....” he said quietly. 

Joey stretched, arching his back. He smiled at Mick as he opened his eyes, squeezing his hand. He looked around the bed. “You guys going already?” he asked sleepily, dismayed to see they were getting ready to leave. 

“Yeah buddy.... it's nearly 4pm. You slept through most of the movie.” Shawn chuckled, and leaned down to give Joey a hug, Mick shuffling back to give them room. 

It was that moment that Mick felt something burn through his body. He watched with narrow eyes as Shawn let an arm linger innocently on Joey's shoulder, talking to him. Mick didn't hear what they said through the rush of blood storming his ears. He saw the others come round to hug Joey, and his addled mind picked out the way Joey leaned his head against the others' shoulders, hands around their necks, the same way he hugged Mick. He noticed how Sid smiled at Joey for longer than was surely needed, and how Jim ran a hand down Joey's back during their hug. 

Unconsciously he lifted a hand in farewell as they left, but he was deep within his thoughts. Joey curled up against him, head on his chest, and Mick found his arms had once again closed around the smaller man. They lay there for a little while, until Joey raised his head to see Mick. 

“Is there something wrong, Mick?” His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked worried. 

Mick was startled that Joey had noticed. But then again, he should have guessed. “No, nothing's wrong. Go back to sleep.” He closed his eyes and sighed. 

Joey wasn't going to give up that easily. He sat up, wriggling in Mick's lap. “Mick,” he said, emphasising the point by laying a hand on each side of Mick's face. “What is it?” he asked, softly this time. 

Mick opened his eyes as he felt the gentle hands on him. Joey was peering at him, concerned. 

“Tell me.”

Mick swallowed hard. “It's you. I don't want to lose you,” he said, voicing the thought that had plaguing him this afternoon. 

He felt Joey shift on his lap, and those hands stop their gentle stroking. “Mick?!” Joey said, a note of surprise in his voice. “Look at me,” he said quietly. Mick opened his eyes slowly. “Why do you think that you might lose me?” Joey asked. 

“Because... because you're getting better, Joey. You can have anyone you want.”

Joey was shocked, and it showed in his face. “And you think I'd just dump you?” he asked in disbelief. 

Mick nodded slowly, unable to look at Joey. “I don't want to lose you,” he whispered. He felt as though something was uncoiling and moving around inside him, disturbing his thoughts and stirring emotions that Mick didn't think he was capable of feeling. 

Joey's lips were on his forehead, and he gasped and clenched at the smaller man's waist. Small tears were dropping now, despite his best efforts to reign them in. Joey kissed them away, much the same as Mick had done for Joey not so long ago. 

“I will never leave you...” Joey punctuated each word with a kiss. “Don't you _ever_ think that.”

With that, his lips found Mick's, and he kissed him sweetly. Mick's eyes closed and he gave in to Joey, clinging to the small body in his hands. He kissed him back desperately, reluctant to end their embrace.

And when they did slow and break apart, Joey stayed close to him. “I love you so much. Nothing's going to change, I swear,” he whispered, his mouth tantalisingly close to Mick's ear. 

Mick could barely think when Joey's tongue started to tease him, swirling around his ear and making him gasp. “I love you too....” he choked out, as Joey's teeth lightly tugged at his earlobe. 

To his disappointment, Joey sat up. He leaned back, smiling coyly at Mick. The guitarist's hands, still holding Joey's waist, began to work their way up slowly. Joey gasped, arching his back as he felt Mick's fingers slide under his shirt. He quickly stripped himself of the shirt, throwing it away. Mick grinned as he took in Joey, chest heaving, still sitting on his lap. His fingers were gliding over Joey's stomach now, sending sparks straight to his cock. Joey's nipples were hard, and he brushed over them, hearing a sharp intake of breath from the other man. He rubbed them slowly with his thumbs, teasing Joey.

He lay Joey down carefully on the bed, hovering over him. Joey's face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily, hands roaming over Mick's body. Enticed by Joey's chest, Mick pressed his lips to his collarbone, licking and sucking at his smooth skin. Joey tasted sweet and musky at the same time; heat radiating off his skin and burning Mick's cheeks. His tongue wet a trail down to one of Joey's nipples, and he played with it before sucking gently. Joey moaned, spreading his legs under Mick and wrapping them around his waist. Mick could feel him hard against his own erection, and he grinded into the smaller man. 

A cry from Joey was enough for Mick. He sat up, tugging off his shirt and pulling hurriedly at his jeans. Pushing them down quickly, he didn't bother taking them off. Joey was watching him, hands tucked down his boxers, and Mick knew what he was doing. He pulled Joey's boxers down for a clear view, and his other hand gripped his own cock, jerking himself off in time with Joey. 

“Miiiicccckkkkk... “ Joey gasped, his hips bucking. He let go and gripped Mick's hands, trying to sit up. 

“Joey!” Mick pushed him down again, and pulled his boxers off. Spitting in his hand, he rubbed Joey's entrance, feeling how relaxed he was. He inserted two fingers, but felt there was no point continuing to prepare. Joey was ready and waiting. 

He pulled the smaller man up by the hips, barely able to contain himself. Guiding himself in, he watched Joey's face, seeing the pleasure wash over him. Propping himself up with shaky arms, Joey's legs over his shoulders, he started to thrust. Joey was moaning and whimpering, making no attempt to prevent himself being heard. Mick knew what it was like, being so horny you just didn't care about anything else. He felt that now as he was fucking Joey, just wanting to pound him into the mattress. 

He increased his pace, slamming against Joey, losing control. All the blood in his body was rushing so fast he felt faint, and the sweat dripping from his pores was leaking down his skin, slippery next to Joey's. He couldn't stop, didn't want to stop, _wouldn't_ stop, and Joey was mewing his pleasure, holding tight to Mick. The air between them was thick with heat and lust, and Mick crossed it to clash his lips with Joey's. 

They were both close, intoxicatingly caught up in their feverish love-making. Mick stroked Joey's forehead, brushing back the soaked black hair. All too quickly, he felt himself reach his peak, and stilled his movements. Joey joined him, crying out his ecstasy, his fingernails causing Mick to bleed. Moaning quietly into Joey's hair, Mick gripped a handful of blanket, his knuckles turning white. Breathing deeply, they shuddered as their muscles eased their spasming. 

“Goddddd....” Joey sighed, his hands rubbing over Mick's back. He felt satiated, warm and content, pleasure still bubbling in his veins. Mick was a comforting weight, and he missed him instantly when he rolled to lay beside Joey. His jeans tangling his legs, he pulled them up tiredly. Joey draped an arm around his neck, smiling happily. Mick looked down at him, running a finger down the side of his face. Joey closed his eyes in pleasure, and Mick leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Mick felt small arms gliding over his back to clasp at his neck, tangling in his hair. 

“Do you still think I'm going to leave you?” Joey murmured, eyes half shut. 

Mick smiled. “No. But I don't think I could stand it if you did.... it would kill me,” he said, serious. 

“That's not going to happen...” Joey whispered, a small hand now stroking the side of Mick's face. “Besides... I think Chris would kill me!” 

They laughed quietly together, and Mick felt relief flood his body. He was stupid to think that Joey would get over him just like that. 

Joey was so tempting lying there, face still flushed from sex, a quiet smile playing on his red lips. He raised his eyebrows at Mick, as if to ask what was taking him so long. Mick didn't hesitate any longer. Eye candy was one thing, but actually getting to kiss those lips – there was only one thing on his mind. Joey tasted sweet, and of something that reminded Mick of cinnamon. He was savouring the flavours, exploring them on his tongue as he kissed the man beneath him, when there was a 'thump!' at the door and it flew open. 

Mick whipped his head up, leaving a surprised looking Joey. Sid stood in the doorway, looking horrified. Mick thought it probably resembled his own expression, as he found himself rudely interrupted. Joey was still naked, and he hurriedly pulled the bed sheet over him. 

“What the **fuck** Sid?!” Mick spat, knowing he was probably going red. He was mortified at having Sid walk in them, but a small part of him was grateful it hadn't been 5 minutes earlier. 

Sid's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, as his eyes poked out on stalks at the sight on the bed. 

“ **Sid!!** Get whatever the fuck you forgot and get the fuck out of here!!” Mick roared. 

That seemed to galvanise Sid into action. Practically running over to Mick's hospital bed, he rummaged around for something. Pulling out a cellphone, he held it up, as if it would explain everything. Stammering out a choked, “Sorry!”, he stumbled out of the door and slammed it behind him. 

Mick stared at the door. It had happened so quickly, he was still coming to terms with it. Something highly embarrassing had just occurred. Or so he thought. He became aware of a sound in the room. It was Joey, giggling madly. 

“You should have seen your face Mick!!” he uttered between explosions of laughter. 

Mick looked at him in bewilderment. Sid had just walked in on the two of them, cuddling naked on the bed, and Joey thought it was funny? He realised he had a way to go before being able to fully understand Joey. The smaller man was curled up, shoulders shaking, nearly crying with laughter. 

Mick couldn't help it. Laughter was contagious, and he shook his head in disbelief as he found himself starting to chuckle. He wasn't sure what he was so amused about: watching Joey rolling around on the bed like he'd just drawn an evil cartoon of Shawn and taped it to his back, or that maybe having Sid walk in like that wasn't so desperately awful and he could loosen up about it. Either way, he now found himself laughing, although he wasn't very impressed about it. 

“Ahhhhh.....” Joey finally seemed to have been able to contain his glee, and relaxed back against the bed. “You know, that really was quite funny.”

Mick shook his head for the second time in less than a minute. “Why exactly was that so funny, Joey?” 

“I don't know. It's just funny.” 

Mick felt like hitting Joey with a pillow, but restrained himself. “You're insufferable, did you know?”

“I don't know what that word means, Mick.” 

Deciding that further conversation would get him nowhere, Mick just smiled. Joey gazed back, slightly confused, but Mick offered no clue. 

“You're not going to tell me what 'insufferable' means, are you?” Joey asked, eyebrows narrowed. Now, he was curious. 

Mick decided to give in. “It means... it means that sometimes, I wonder what makes your brain tick,” he said, playing with a strand of Joey's hair. 

The drummer tilted his head and pursed his lips as he thought. Mick could be odd, occasionally. “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” he asked, hoping that Mick didn't find him annoying. 

“Good thing.” Mick said it before his brain could think about it. Joey's quirks were what made him so, well, _Joey-ish_. Putting up with Joey being 'insufferable' was just part of the package. 

Joey seemed to decide everything was ok now, and he'd quite like to get up. Kicking the white sheets off his legs, he found himself feeling unbearably dirty. He couldn't remember the last time he'd showered or had a bath. Sex hadn't helped; the sweat had dried on his skin, leaving him sticky. 

“What's up?” Mick asked, a hand on Joey's hip. 

“I want a bath, or a shower, or something. I feel gross.” 

Rolling his eyes at Joey's sudden leap from one thing to another, Mick followed his lead and sat up. “Want me to run a bath?” 

“Hmmmm mmm. “ Joey nodded. “Is there any bubble bath?”

Mick stopped in his efforts to climb off the bed, and looked back at Joey. “You want _bubble bath_?”

“Yeah. Why not? Bubbles are fun,” Joey said, wondering what the problem was. 

Mick looked slightly shocked. He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno babe, I'll look. But I don't think so.”

 

Joey's oddities came at the strangest times, Mick couldn't help but think as he made his way to the bathroom. Joey was how old, and he wanted bubble bath? Still, Mick had to suppress a grin. At least Joey knew what he wanted. Mick wanted a Harley and an endless supply of beer, but conceded Joey was more likely to get bubble bath. So maybe, there was a point there. 

Alas, the bathroom cupboard was bereft of bubble bath. There was soap (the harsh sort, that made your skin tight and uncomfortable) and a bottle of shampoo (most likely, _not_ Pantene). Glad they'd brought their bags with them, Mick went back into the room to find Joey-approved supplies. The supple drummer was walking around naked, and although Mick had to stop to admire the view, he wondered at his starkness. What if it wasn't one of the guys who walked in next time? What if it was his doctor, who he'd have to put up with until his discharge? How uncomfortable would that be! 

Joey saw him staring. “No bubble bath?”

“No bubble bath, Joey. I'm sorry. I'll get Shawn to pick some up for you, next time though,” Mick smirked.

Joey poked his tongue out, and walked over. “If you get Shawn to buy me bubble bath, I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Especially if it's Barbie bubble bath,” Mick said.

“ **Especially** if it's Barbie bubble bath!”

“So you promise to behave, under threat of potential bubble bath purchases?”

Joey looked sour. “I promise!”

“Good boy,” said Mick, having fun. 

“Did you even run the bath yet?” Joey sulked as he wrapped his arms around Mick's waist. 

“No, I was too busy looking for bubble bath.” 

Joey wasn't amused. What was wrong with bubble bath, anyway? Some people.....


	18. Grace of Your Love

Sinking into the hot water, Mick settled Joey between his legs. Despite the lack of decent supplies, the bathroom did have one thing going for it – an extra large bathtub. And a lock on the door. Feeling more relaxed now that he wasn't worried about people walking in on them, Mick wrapped his arms around Joey and kissed him softly on his neck. Tilting his head, Joey closed his eyes and revelled in the sensuous caress.

“You know...” he said languidly, “I still wish there were bubbles.” Mick chuckled into his kiss, sending vibrations echoing through Joey's body. “Mmmmmm.....” Joey sighed, breathing deeply.

“I can just see you sitting in here, playing with bubbles,” Mick teased, squeezing Joey gently. 

“What colour?” Joey asked. 

“What do you mean, 'what colour'?” Mick quizzed.

“What colour are the bubbles!” 

“Oh.” Mick drew up. “Errr....” He thought again. “Pink.” 

Joey giggled. “That's so manly.”

“So's wanting a bubble bath.” 

Joey shrugged. “Bubbles are fun. Haven't you ever had a bubble bath?” 

Mick was speechless for a moment. “Maybe... when I was a kid or something. I can't really remember. Why?”

“Cos if you had, you'd know what I mean. You'd want to play with them too.” 

“Yes Joey. I'm sure I would.” 

“Don't tease me.”

“I'm not teasing!” Mick exclaimed. “I'm sorry Joey,” he said softly. “It's just I don't think bubbles are my thing.”

Joey started giggling again. Something about that sentence tickled him. Mick, playing with bubbles? Yeah, maybe that was a bit far-fetched. 

Mick heard and felt him giggling, and started laughing. “Why are we having this conversation, Joey?”

The drummer turned his head to Mick's. “Because I love bubbles. And you.” 

Mick smiled. “Let's carry on along the lines of the second part of that sentence.” 

Joey pursed his lips, and with a sly smile, said, “I'm too tired for more sex.”

“Sex isn't synonymous with love, Joey. Surely you've realised that, with all those groupies.” 

“I suppose. Though, there was this one girl....”

“Joey.”

“Ok, _ok_....” 

They lapsed into silence, relaxing in the heated water. Joey started to hum, his head lolling around on Mick's chest. The guitarist was nearly asleep, tiredness overcoming him after his physical exertions that day. A smile twitched at his mouth as he listened to Joey, recognising a familiar childhood lullaby.

“'All The Pretty Horses', Joey?”

Joey stopped humming. “Is that what that is?”

“I think so.”

“Your mom sing it to you?” 

“I can't remember. But my brother's wife sings it to their kids.”

“I think my mom sung it to me,” Joey said thoughtfully. 

“In the bath?” Mick asked playfully. 

“In my bubble bath!” Joey laughed. He sat up, swirling the water around with his hands. It slid through his fingers like sand, and he remembered catching bubbles and blowing them around the bathroom. His mom hated him doing it, because it left sticky patches everywhere, but she always started laughing in the end. There would be bubbles in her hair, on the towels, in the sink and on the mirror. Sometimes, the cat would wander in and bat around the bubbles with her paw, until they popped and startled her. He remembered refusing to have a bath unless there were bubbles. He grew out of that when he started going to school though, big boys didn't have bubble baths. 

Mick lay back watching Joey play with the water. The little drummer was quiet, deep in thought and he didn't want to disturb him. He was pleased to see how much Joey had filled out; he was now far from the walking skeleton he had been when he was admitted to hospital. His stomach was flat now, instead of concave. Mick couldn't see his ribs, and his hips were hidden. Joey's skin had taken on more of a natural colour, and the pallor that had made him look so sick was gone. All in all, it was a far healthier Joey that was splashing about in the bath, and Mick thanked everything he could think of for his recovery. 

Joey saw Mick watching him and smiled. “What you thinking about?”

“You. And how much better you look. Like the Joey I used to know.” 

Joey looked down at his stomach and grabbed a handful of fat. “I think I need to go on a diet now.” 

Mick swatted his hand away. “I hope you're kidding.”

“'Course I am! But how much of this do you think is doughnuts?” He gazed at Mick with his eyebrows raised.

The other man had to laugh. “I reckon half of it would be doughnuts, the other half whatever they pumped into you down that tube.” 

“Hmmm yeah. Liquid food. That thing sucked.”

“Worked though,” Mick pointed out. 

“Yeah. Not keen for another try though. I'm glad I wasn't awake when they stuck it down there.” With that, Joey promptly leaned forwards and dunked himself under the water. Mick laughed at him as he came up spluttering, wiping water from his eyes. 

“You look like that chick from 'The Ring'! Dripping water all over the carpet as she climbs out of the TV!” 

Joey glared at him. “She has a name.” 

“Who does?”

“That chick from 'The Ring'! It's Samara.” 

“So? Do you admit that you look like that chi- Samara, from 'The Ring'?” 

“Yes. I've studied that phenomenon myself.”

“What, in the mirror?” 

“Something like that.”

Joey grabbed his shampoo from the floor by the bath and dumped half the contents on his head. Lathering furiously, he soon resembled something that Mick remembered building in his front yard in the snow when he was a kid. He wondered if Joey was trying to make up for the lack of bubbles. Sure enough, the drummer grabbed a handful from his head and blew them through his fingers. He directed one lot straight at Mick, who closed his eyes and grimaced as he felt the bubbles burst on his skin. 

“Having fun?” he asked, wiping his face clean. 

“Yes!” Joey exclaimed, aiming for the pile of clothes by the tub. Mick had to laugh. Joey looked exceptionally cute. 

Lathering up his own hair from the shampoo bottle, Mick had an idea. Careful not to rouse suspicion, he gathered his own handful of suds. Waiting until Joey was distracted with hitting the garbage can, he lined up. 

“Hey Joey.”

As the ebony haired drummer turned to face him, he blew. Joey shut his eyes and squealed in delight as the bubbles hit him. “Mick!” 

The guitarist laughed as he watched Joey pout, and ducked when he saw the smaller man planning his revenge. The water washed over him like a wave, sloshing over the side of the tub. With watery shampoo foam running down his face, he sat up. “Nice one, Joey, real nice!”

The shampoo was stinging his eyes, and he wiped it away carefully. Blinking furiously, he groped his arms out for Joey. Despite his size, Joey was unable to avoid him, and found himself being swept up into a hug. 

“I'd use the word 'insufferable' again, but I'm afraid you might take offence again,” Mick said, laughter edging into his words. 

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Joey asked, flinging his arms around Mick's neck. 

“Do I have a choice?” Mick said grudgingly, but with a smile on his face. He didn't think he'd ever be able to get mad at Joey. The drummer had buried his face into Mick's neck, swathing him in bubbles. “Ugh, Joey!” 

“What?!” came the muffled reply.

“You got bubbles in my mouth,” Mick answered indignantly. 

Joey sat up abruptly, foam dripping from his hair, a wicked smile on his face. “I'm sorry!” 

“Are not.” 

“Am too!”

“Be quiet!” 

Joey poked his tongue out at Mick as the bigger man sat up and reached around behind him. “What are you doing?”

“This,” Mick said distractedly, as he turned on the portable shower head that sat on top of the faucets. 

“Stay still,” he said to Joey. “Close your eyes.”

Joey did as he was told, clamping them even tighter shut as he felt the water rinse his hair. Mick was careful though, and he didn't feel any water drip down his face. 

“All done!” 

Joey relaxed and opened his eyes, watching as Mick rinsed his own hair. He hadn't realised just how long it was – longer than his own, anyway. Mick smiled as he saw him gazing, and shut off the water. “Come here.”

Joey didn't need asking twice. Mick gathered him up in his arms, kissing him softly. Brushing the wet hair out of Joey's eyes, he spoke. “You're so cute when you're wet.” 

Joey cracked up. “What about the rest of the time, then?” he asked coyly, running a hand over Mick's chest. 

“The rest of the time.... you're always perfect, Joey.” 

This time it was Joey who kissed Mick, holding his face in his hands. 

Smiling, Mick set Joey back down. Grabbing the bottle of body wash (Joey refused to use soap) he poured some onto a washcloth. Rubbing it over Joey's body carefully, he washed him tenderly, stopping to lay kisses on his skin. Joey leaned against the side of the bath, eyes closed, murmuring with pleasure as Mick's lips pressed to him. He felt other than heard Mick shift until he was over Joey, hands exploring his skin, washcloth cleansing him gently. 

All too soon, Mick was finished, and Joey watched as he washed himself, marvelling at the muscles that dominated his chest. Mick noticed him staring and smiled, tossing the cloth away into the water. His hands gripped Joey's legs underwater and the small man started, before playfully kicking out at Mick. 

“Now now.... can't have that....” Mick's hands began to slide up Joey's legs, parting them slowly. Joey just sat back and smirked, allowing Mick to come closer and closer. Soon, he felt hands grip his arse and lift him up. He found himself sitting on Mick's lap, his face only inches away. 

“I like this.”

“I thought you would....” Mick said huskily, before shutting him up with a hungry kiss. Joey moaned quietly, squeezing his legs around Mick. Those hands on him were stroking and caressing and Joey twisted his fingers into Mick's hair. 

“Come here,” Mick whispered into Joey's ear. They lay back, Joey nuzzling Mick's neck. The guitarist let his hands drift up to rub Joey's back, touching him softly. Joey sighed as he felt Mick's fingers. Mick had a way of touching him that kindled his senses, and made him sensitive to the slightest brush. He shivered as a finger drew lazy circles before tracing a path up and down his spine. Mick kept going lower and lower, teasing Joey, who was shuddering. 

“Mick.... I thought no more sex....”

“But you can't deny you like it,” Mick whispered, as he let his finger drift down as far as he wanted it to go. Joey moaned as Mick rubbed him, gripping the guitarist's bicep. And when Mick slid that finger in he cried out, fingers digging into flesh. Mick started to thrust in and out, holding onto the shaking drummer with his other hand. The water started to slosh around as Mick went faster and faster, fucking Joey harder. He curled his finger, and as he did he felt a small bump. Brushing over it, Joey screamed. 

“God! Mick!” he cried. “Don't stop!”

Mick concentrated on rubbing the spot, and Joey's shaking became nearly uncontrollable.

“Mmmm fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!! Oh god!”

Joey's hips were jerking unconsciously, grinding his erection against Mick's thigh. The friction was intensely pleasurable, and he knew he was unbearably close. 

“Micccckkk, I'm gonna cum, fuck!” 

With a strangled scream, Joey felt himself explode into ecstasy. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't think, he could only ride out the powerful release that threatened to tear him in half. 

Mick's finger was still jerking inside him, teasing his orgasm longer. His other hand gripped the back of Joey's head, trying to hold him still. Joey was still screaming into his shoulder, a death grip attaching himself to Mick. He whimpered as he came down, breath shuddering in his throat. Mick hushed him, stroking smooth his wet hair. 

“Hey... it's ok...” he whispered into Joey's ear. The drummer turned his head to face him, bright wide blue eyes. He let one of his hands snake up wrap around Mick's neck, bringing him closer. Mick kissed him softly, lips staying their presence on Joey's mouth. 

Satiated, Joey collapsed against Mick's chest. The guitarist chuckled, letting him lay there for a few moments. But the water was getting cold, the bubbles long since disappeared. Mick fished around for the plug, jerking it out. The water started to swirl around them, being sucked down the drain. Mick watched the water eddy, oddly fascinated. It was only when the last remnants of liquid were draining slowly away that he encouraged Joey to sit up.

The drummer sat up carefully, his eyes struggling to stay open. Mick clambered out quickly, grabbing a towel off the rack. He ignored the water dripping onto the tiled floor as he bent down to wrap the towel around Joey, not wanting him to get cold. 

“Come on,” he said playfully. “You can't sit there all day.”

Joey just poked his tongue out, and raised his arms so Mick could lift him out. They dried each other quickly on the bathroom floor, the cold from the tiles seeping into their bodies. Joey wasn't much use though, Mick proved just too big to dry in a reasonably amount of time. The bigger man laughed and finished the job himself, smiling at a pouting Joey. 

“Wait here, I'm going to get you some clothes.” Mick wrapped his towel around his waist and ventured back into the room to pick up some clean clothes. Someone had been in while they were in the bathroom; both of the beds had clean sheets on them. Hoping they hadn't heard too much, Mick got what he wanted and went back to Joey.

Clean and dressed, Joey yawned tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Mick sat down next him, concerned. “Tired?”

“Just a bit...” Joey yawned again, leaning his head against Mick's shoulder. “If you hadn't noticed, you kinda wore me out today.” 

They laughed quietly together, Mick squeezing Joey's shoulders. “There's only one answer to that. Bed!”

Joey just collapsed against him, groaning. “Stay with me!”

“I will. I just want you in bed,” Mick answered him, feeling rather like a parent. 

He picked Joey up, carrying him back into the bedroom. The small man was practically asleep when he laid him on the bed, not even opening his eyes. He did manage to speak, though. “You're staying here, right....”

Mick grasped Joey's hand, holding it between his own. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Goooodddd....” Joey managed to turn his head, opening his eyes slightly. “I want you here when I wake up.” 

Mick could only smile.


	19. Smile of An Angel

The sun was bright in Mick's eyes when he awoke the next morning. He blinked hard, raising a hand to block out the light. It took a few moments for him to adjust, and he regretted forgetting to close the curtains last night. Joey was tucked into his chest, still soundly asleep. Trying not to disturb him, Mick climbed carefully off the bed. 

He pulled the curtains together now, not wanting Joey to suffer the same fate when he woke up. Outside the room, he could hear the beginnings of the day in the hospital ward. Nurses were walking briskly from room to room, and speaking in hushed voices. He was glad he'd woken before someone came in to check on Joey – he didn't think they'd be impressed to find him curled up on the bed with him. 

Sneakily, he mussed up the sheets on his bed to make it look like it'd been slept in. And when a nurse knocked and came in, he gave her his best 'completely innocent' look from his perch next to Joey on the bed. She smiled workmanlike and fired off the same questions Mick had been answered every morning for the last few days. Seemingly satisfied, she made a mark on Joey's clipboard and turned to leave. 

“When do you think he'll be able to leave?” Mick asked quickly, hoping she'd know.

She pursed her lips sympathetically. “Sorry, that's up to his doctors. They'll be around later in the morning. They should be able to tell you.” 

Mick nodded. “Thanks.”

Nodding back, she turned on her heels and left the room. 

Mick sighed. “Well babe... one day we'll get you home.”

He looked down at the sleeping figure next to him, and chuckled. He didn't know why he'd taken to talking to himself, but perhaps it was a sign the claustrophobic nature of the hospital was getting to him. He decided he needed a distraction, and settled on Joey. 

He was still watching him sleep when he sighed and moved slightly. Mick rested a hand on Joey's shoulder, trying to ease him awake. Reluctantly, Joey opened his eyes, still sleepy. 

“Hey...” he murmured, stretching and sitting up. He was glad to see Mick next to him. But of course, he would always keep his promises. That was just one thing he loved about him. 

Mick smiled at him. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Joey answered him with a slow, lingering kiss. It still felt unreal, waking up with Mick at his side, knowing he was his. But there was nothing Joey wanted more in this world than Mick. Despite how awful his sickness had made him feel, in a strange way he was grateful. It had given him Mick. 

They cuddled for a while, and Joey nearly fell asleep again. Breakfast disturbed them, much to Mick's disgust. He peeked under the foil and made a face at Joey, who giggled. 

“Doughnuts?” the drummer suggested, with a wry smile. 

Mick didn't protest. He grabbed the box of Krispy Kremes and settled back on the bed. 

Joey got to the last blueberry doughnut first, but Mick would have conceded anyway. He would have given Joey anything, and anyway, a blueberry doughnut wasn't much. One that was slowly dripping down a chin.

“Honestly Joey....” Mick sighed sarcastically and reached for the tissues. “Do I have to spend my life cleaning up after you?” he laughed. Only when he turned back, Joey wasn't there. 

His smile disappeared, replaced by confusion. The tissues in his hand fell to the bed as he felt a small hand reach into his boxers. Joey was hovering down by his crotch, clearly intending some sort of breakfast surprise. A blueberry flavoured breakfast surprise, evidently. 

Mick moaned as Joey's hand gripped his cock, and he forgot about doughnuts and breakfast. Laying back on the bed, he watched as Joey bent forward his head. Joey licked him slowly, teasing him. He could feel Mick growing hard in his hands, hear the gasps he was trying to stifle. 

Joey sucked gently on the head of Mick's engorged cock; precum mixing with blueberry. He savoured the taste, wanting more. Mick was urging him on now, hands in his hair and on his shoulders. Joey was driving him crazy, going down on him so slow. And he knew it, too.... 

“Baby... please...” Mick pleaded. Joey gave in. He slid Mick into his mouth, as far as he could manage. He was huge, almost too big, but Joey didn't care. He relaxed his throat, trying not to choke. After a few moments the sensation faded and he started to suck again, harder and faster than before. 

Mick wasn't bothering to stifle his moans any more. Joey was sending him to the edge, and Mick knew it wouldn't be long before he crossed. His nerves were burning, his skin alight, his muscles starting to twitch with electricity. Joey was increasing his speed, and Mick could only mutter his appreciation through clenched teeth. A hand was caressing his balls, and suddenly it was all too much. 

He couldn't hold back the strangled moan that accompanied his orgasm, or stop his body from jerking. Joey was swallowing the jets of hot semen, his hands and mouth still working to entice Mick further. When Mick had given all he could, Joey let him slip out of his mouth, licking the head one more time. 

Mick was gasping for air, a hand gripping his pillow. Joey smiled, happy he could please him so well. He hadn't planned to blow Mick for breakfast, but he certainly didn't regret it. Rash actions could sometimes have bad consequences, but Joey's gut had been right that time. 

He slid Mick's now flaccid cock back into his boxers, and let a warm hand glide sensually up his chest as he rose to sit beside him. 

“Hope you didn't mind the interruption?” Joey asked cheekily, grinning like the cat who'd gotten the cream. 

Mick was still catching his breath. He shook his head at Joey, smiling and then breaking into a laugh. Joey was so unpredictable sometimes, and it was a sign of how well he'd became that he was doing spontaneous things again. Mick didn't mind. 

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” Mick asked, only partially playfully. 

“Not enough,” Joey replied, his mouth twisting as he tried not to laugh. It worked. Mick pounced on him, capturing his lips and kissing him hard. It was Joey's turn to gasp for air as they separated. 

“Consider yourself told,” Mick said softly. 

Joey nodded. “I love you too.”

Mick was bending forwards for another kiss when someone knocked at the door. Gratefully he was clothed again, he and Joey rearranged themselves on the bed so they didn't look so post coital. The only person who could interrupt them now and get away with it was the doctor, so Mick was glad to see it was him. He wanted to know when he could take Joey home. 

The doctor seemed pleased with Joey's progress. He expressed his satisfaction with Joey's temperature and weight, although he wasn't impressed at the box of doughnuts that Mick had forgotten to hide. He tried to pretend they were only his, but the doctor saw through that quickly.

“Well, I suppose if he's eating... that's a good sign. But preferably not for breakfast, Mr Jordison.”

Mick could see Joey was trying to suppress a giggle. He squeezed Joey's hand, smiling when the drummer squeezed back. 

“When do you think he might be able to go home?” Mick asked, barely able to stop himself. 

The doctor pursed his lips as he though. “Well.... I think he might be ready to go home this afternoon. I'd like to do one more blood test, and depending on the results he might be ready to be released. Will you be there to look after him?”

Mick nodded eagerly. “Of course... I wouldn't leave him on his own.”

“Good, good... Well, I'll have a nurse come in and take some blood. With any luck, you'll be sleeping in your own beds tonight. Take care.” And he was gone. 

Mick couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. “Did you hear that... maybe today. You'd better be alright, or I.... Well, I won't be happy!”

Joey laughed. He wanted to go home too, where he and Mick could be alone without any threat of interruption. There were so many things he was wanting to try out.... 

“You're coming to stay with me, right?” Joey quietly voiced the thought that had just occurred to him. 

Mick peered concernedly at him, and rubbed his arms. “Of course I am... why wouldn't I?” he asked, just as quietly. 

Joey looked at him. “I just... I dunno. Just worried you'd go home... and forget about me.” His voice was soft, and Mick had to strain to hear him. 

“Oh Joey.....” he sighed. “Remember what we talked about yesterday... I was worried _you_ were going to leave me, and now you're worried about me leaving? Joey, I could never leave you... I love you too much.”

Joey looked mournfully at Mick as he talked. Their relationship was so new, so different and so heated that he was worried it would snap. He didn't think he could handle that. They'd adjusted to the tour bus and occasional hotel rooms, adjusted to the hospital, and now they'd have to adjust to being at home... where Mick and Joey both had separate houses. 

“Will you come live with me?” Joey asked suddenly. 

Mick gaped. It was a big question. But he knew the answer. “Yes.”

Joey beamed, and reached forward to hug Mick. He kissed him softly on the neck, his heart bursting. Mick was going to move in. He'd be there 24/7, next to Joey as he woke up and as he fell asleep at night. What more could he want?

Mick smiled. It was an easy decision to make. He could sell his house – Joey had a far nicer one, anyway. Being with Joey all the time was important to him, especially as he was still recovering. He'd never lived with someone before, but he didn't think it would be a problem. He was so in love with Joey that living with him was really the only way forward. 

And now, he needed to resume that kiss....


	20. No One Will Love You The Way I Do

The rest of Slipknot was as excited about the possibility of Joey going home as Mick was. They had been living in the tour bus in a nearby car park after the tour was cancelled, and apparently it was getting a bit 'rough'. Having their drummer back and fit was also appealing. Shawn had the look of a man who was contemplating re-scheduling tour dates, and Mick sensibly left him alone.

Sid devoured the rest of the doughnuts as he perched on the end of Joey's bed.  
“So,” he mumbled through a mouth of strawberry doughnut, “what do you think will be the first thing you do when you get home?”

It was a completely innocent question, but Mick had to stifle his splutter of laughter. There was only one thing he was planning on doing when they got home, and he didn't think the others would appreciate hearing it. Joey seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and he shared a knowing smile with Mick. His answer to Sid was careful.

“Well.... shower I guess. Sleep in my own damn bed.” He shrugged, trying to stop his shoulders from shaking.

“Mmmm... fair enough. I just want a shower. Stuff sleeping. I feel like I'm starting to grow fuzz.”

Sid's line was just what Mick and Joey needed. They released their laughter under the cover of a response to Sid, trying not to shake too much.

Completely unaware, Sid carried on eating. Corey grabbed a doughnut from the box, winking at Mick. He knew what Mick wanted to do when he got home... but politeness prevented him from commenting. Joey grabbed Mick's hand under the blanket, sharing another smile.

The nurse interrupted their visit. Jim hid behind Shawn as she drew blood, not liking the needle. Shawn just rolled his eyes.

“We'll have the results in about an hour,” she mentioned as she left, not realising just how much the men in the room were anticipating said result.

It was hard for them to settle again after she'd left, knowing it was only going to be a little while. Corey paced the room, and after a short while Chris joined him. Joey was fiddling with the bed covers, occasionally kissing Mick on the lips when the desire hit him. Mick hid his nervousness well, stroking Joey's back and playing with his hair.

The others sat around, not talking. Craig was on his laptop, as per usual, with Jim peering over his shoulder every now and then. Sid calmly ate his way through the reasonably large box of doughnuts, and Joey wondered how he wasn't sick already. Shawn was on his Blackberry, and Paul seemed to be staring at the wall. The clock was ticking too slowly.

Slowly, without hardly realising, Joey leaned back into Mick and fell asleep. Mick wrapped his arms around him, brushing his lips over Joey's forehead. He fought the urge to sleep as well, despite his anxiety for the test results. He settled for resting his head against Joey's, resisting the temptation to close his eyes. He listened to Joey breathe softly, almost becoming hypnotised.

And when the doctor came back, Shawn had to tap him on the shoulder.  
“Mick? Doctor's here.”

Mick sat up with a start. He'd become lost in thought, and hadn't heard the knock on the door.

The doctor smiled sympathetically. “I'm sorry it took so long. We got his results back. He seems fine. I'd like to release him this afternoon.”

The irony was that Joey slept through it. Mick didn't the heart to wake him, sleeping so quietly. All he could was hug him tighter, pressing him closer. Joey sighed in his sleep and turned his head into Mick's neck, not rousing. Mick hid the tears in his eyes by burying his face in Joey's hair, swallowing the rising emotion in his throat.

He just wanted to take Joey home... and now finally, he could. All the worry, the anxiety, the tension that had engulfed him over the better part of the last week was starting to lift. He knew he wouldn't relax completely until Joey was at home, happy and healthy, but it was a huge step.

Shawn seemed to know Mick needed a few moments. With some well chosen words he thanked the doctor in a way that told him he needed to go now, and he left quietly, knowingly. A hand on his back was supporting Mick, and he let it rest there as he forced the tears from his eyes.

Joey was so still in his arms as he sat up, and he just stared at him for a few moments before looking up to see Shawn before him. Mick didn't notice, but the room was deathly quiet.

Shawn didn't say anything, he didn't need to. He just smiled, and Mick found himself reciprocating. He didn't want to say it, but he wished he was alone with Joey right now. The others seem to know though, and he heard them creeping out. Shawn whispered something about getting lunch, and Mick nodded without looking at him.

Mick let Joey sleep on for a while. He refused to lay him back down on the bed and let him go. Time ticked on, but Mick wasn't counting seconds. He couldn't stop gazing at Joey, studying the lines on his face and the fall of his hair. And when Joey sighed, his eyelids starting to flutter, Mick was there.

“Hey....”

It was barely more than a soft whisper, but Joey heard. He smiled sleepily, and then yawned.

“Mmmmphhffff,” he muttered between his hands as he tried to stifle his yawns. Mick chuckled. Early bed time for Joey tonight.... or perhaps not, if he had his dirty way.

“Where is everyone?” Joey asked tiredly, eyes still blinking away the sleep.

“Gone for lunch. You missed the doctor,” Mick pointed out playfully, raising his eyebrows.

That snapped Joey awake. In his soporific state, he'd forgotten. He wriggled upright until he was sitting on Mick's lap, arms around his neck. “What did he say?” he asked, breathlessly.

Mick just smiled.

“Don't tease me! Tell me!” Joey demanded. Mick only grinned wider.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. “He said... he said you could go home today.”

Joey gaped. “Really?”

“No. Actually, you'll be here for the rest of the year. I'm going home, but the nurses will take care of you, I'm sure. At least, they'll leave you a few food trays every now and again.”

Joey pouted. “Don't be silly!”

“I'm not!” Mick laughed. “I'm telling the truth! Seriously!”

“Liar.” Joey stuck his lower lip out.

Mick's train of thought diverted to how cute Joey looked right then. Sulky and surly suited him. Joey seemed to realise he'd forgotten what they were talking about, and shifted on Mick's lap, resisting the urge to cough.

“Stop staring at me, and talk to me instead!”

“Ok, ok!” Mick prolonged Joey's torture by laughing at him for a moment.

Then, he let his grin fade. Serious now, he tightened his grip on Joey's waist.  
“Honestly? Honestly, you are going home today. WE, are going home.”

Joey couldn't speak. He was pleased, he was anxious, he was full of things and he didn't know what.

It was nearly all a bit too much. Now that finally, he could GO HOME, Joey just wanted to leave. He wanted to be there already, throw himself down on his bed and sleep. With Mick beside him. It was almost too overwhelming to think that Mick was going to be there with him from now on.

Joey knew he was going to cry. He was overtired, his body still ached, and his brain couldn't take much more. Mick could see it.

“Hey hey hey... it's ok.... shhhhhh...”

He hugged Joey to his chest, letting him bury his face into his neck. His hands rubbed the smaller man's back slowly and gently, trying to calm him. Under his fingers he could feel Joey shaking with each sob, and on the skin on his neck he could feel the warm tears. His heart ached as he held Joey. There was nothing more he could do, other than try and soothe him.

In time Joey would recover, his body would rid of the scars. And Mick would be there, always. He vowed that right then. And Joey's cries began to fade, his tears began to dry and his shoulders ceased to shake.

But Mick didn't let go. Joey's hands were clinging to Mick, as if Mick was the boulder that held Joey down and if he let go, he would be lost. Mick was his reality.

And Joey let his eyes close again. He was safe.


End file.
